


Wildest Moments

by nauticalparamour



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Pureblood Politics, hermione raised as a malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 51,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29023053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticalparamour/pseuds/nauticalparamour
Summary: Rather than watch a child be killed, Narcissa spontaneously takes her and passes her off as her own daughter, Hermione. Everything is going alright for the Malfoys...until the Dark Lord comes back. AU. Voldemort/Hermione. COMPLETE!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Voldemort
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to fanfiction.net in April of 2013. This story underwent a pretty heavy edit/revision process in January 2021. Someday in the future, it might go through further polishing, as there are still characterizations, relationships and just plot points that I would like to nail down better.
> 
> I would like to give a tremendous thank you to SynnDagger who beta read this story. Synn's sharp eye has been invaluable in correcting my grammatical mistakes and in helping me cut down on wiggle words.

When she'd only been Narcissa Black, she never would have imagined this life for herself. Of course, she would get married to someone suitable, someone approved by mother and father, wealthy and purebred. She never imagined that it would be someone as well connected as a Malfoy.

It had been such a coup to have Abraxas Malfoy show up at _their_ doorstep looking to make a marriage contract for his son. Cygnus Black, long derided for producing three daughters, had been absolutely gleaming with pride when he called her and Bellatrix down the stairs so that they could be inspected by Abraxas and his son, Lucius.

Even then, Narcissa was sure that Lucius would not choose her. Andromeda would have been the most logical match for Lucius as the oldest and closest in age to him. But she was not an option. She'd been shunned from the family for marrying a Mudblood and was no longer spoken of, even though Narcissa's mother missed her fiercely.

So, Bellatrix then, the middle sister, would be who Lucius would select. She was beautiful, with wild, dark hair and gleaming dark eyes that men loved to stare into. Bellatrix was fiery and had a passion about her that she was sure the Malfoy heir would choose over Narcissa's own cold, quiet beauty and intelligence.

But instead of her sister, Lucius had taken one look at her and told his father he would choose no one but Narcissa. He stared into her eyes as he said she was so beautiful that he wouldn't accept another witch to be his bride. Narcissa had been shocked, but preened under the attention of the handsome wizard, equally excited by the life he would provide her and _finally_ besting her older sister in something.

Lucius was a few years older than her and had already established himself in the world, holding important positions in the Wizengamot. Marrying a Malfoy promised a certain level of luxury that Narcissa was keen to embrace. She quickly established herself as a Malfoy, fully enjoying all of the benefits of her new glamorous life.

Mostly, she loved the balls and the parties, where she showed up on Lucius's arm. Narcissa knew that he saw her as little more than a pretty trophy at first, but after some time, he began to see her for the witch she was and love grew between them. She supported him in his work and helped him in any way she could. Then, he wanted to show her off to his more _important_ friends.

Narcissa could still remember the first time that Lucius had introduced her to the Dark Lord. She'd been absolutely brimming with pride that her husband saw her as worthy enough as his wife to meet someone so _important_ to him and his family. The Malfoys were well placed in the Dark Lord's inner circle, something the Blacks had never pursued. She had nervously selected her best gown, wanting to make the best impression she could.

The Dark Lord was a handsome man, but Narcissa could easily see something unnatural simmering under the polished surface he presented to the world. In that charming voice of his, he told her that things were going to get a bit more serious as purebloods rose up to take back their rightful place in society. Mudbloods needed to be put in their place as well. The Ministry had gotten too lenient with them, he said.

As if he knew that Narcissa had some reservations - after all, Andromeda's husband was a Mudblood and she loved her sister, even if she was a blood traitor - the Dark Lord made sure to allay them all. He promised her that her life would continue as normal. All she had to do was continue to be the picture of pureblood witchery, an excellent addition to her husband's house, and perhaps, in the future, a mother.

And that's exactly what she had done.

Lucius had been over the moon when Draco was born earlier that summer. She didn't think she'd ever seen her husband look at anything the way he looked at his son, head delicately cradled in his large hand. It was enough to take her breath away.

She wasn't like Bellatrix, who had joined the Death Eaters after she married her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange. Narcissa didn't attend revels or raids, though Lucius would tell her the basics of what took place. She'd rather be at home with her son.

Tonight was different, though.

Narcissa had been aghast when Lucius told her that not only would he be bringing her with him, but that she was expected to participate in the torture and murder of _Muggles_. While she was known to be quick with a curse, she personally thought it was disgusting to do this to them when they had no way of defending themselves. It was like kicking a krup.

She'd tried to argue with Lucius, telling him that her place was at home with Draco. Their son was still only a year old. What if something happened to both of his parents? But Lucius told her there was no choice. It was a direct order from the Dark Lord; he had insisted on a night of celebration.

The Dark Lord was going to vanquish the Potters and their son that night. Narcissa didn't understand how a one-year-old child could possibly be the only person alive capable of destroying the Dark Lord, but he was a suspicious man who took prophecy to heart. Better to kill the baby now than wait for him to grow stronger. The Dark Lord insisted on dealing with the Potters alone, but had instructed all of his Death Eaters to go out and do a little bit of _celebrating_ on their own.

They'd gone to a middle-class Muggle neighborhood with Bellatrix and her husband. Rabastan, barely out of Hogwarts, came along too. He was newly marked and eager to make his reputation known. Bellatrix had selected a house seemingly at random and the five wizards entered the house, catching the young Muggle couple completely off guard.

Oh, Narcissa _tried_ to stand by Lucius's side, looking on stoically the way that a Malfoy should, but she just couldn't stomach the delight that Bellatrix seemed to take in levitating the woman and dropping her on the floor again and again, laughing maniacally every time the Muggle cried out in pain, begging for them to stop. When she couldn't take the crying, the screams, and Bellatrix's shrill laughter, Narcissa slipped upstairs to the second floor of the house.

Only when she was alone did she allow herself to take a huge, shuddering breath to gather her mind.

A noise from the next room over caught her attention. Narcissa drew her wand, straining to hear it. Then she heard it again - a little coo.

Narcissa strode forward and opened the door, revealing a bright yellow nursery. There was a toddler lying in the crib, her brown eyes wide. Narcissa lowered her wand once she realized that the sweet little girl was obviously not a threat. If she had to guess, Narcissa thought she might have been about two years old. A wave of sadness washed over her as she looked at the little girl with her curly brown hair. She felt sorry for the two parents downstairs.

Looking around the room, Narcissa saw a framed picture with two tiny footprints and handprints, the name Hermione written in bold pink lettering. A weight and height measurement bookended her birthday - September 19th, 1979. She would be in Draco's year at Hogwarts.

The toddler, Hermione, was beginning to grow restless. "Mumma?" she asked, confused and half-asleep.

Narcissa felt her heart clench. It couldn't _hurt_ to pick the little girl up, to comfort her.

When she took the little girl into her arms, Hermione settled down right away, laying her tiny head against Narcissa's shoulder. Her heart surged in her chest, thinking about how right it felt.

Her pregnancy with Draco had been difficult. Narcissa and Lucius had tried to conceive since they'd married, and it had taken five years and several miscarriages to get her perfect son. The birth had been even more difficult and the Healer had told her that she wouldn't be able to have any other children. It had broken Narcissa's heart, having so loved growing up with sisters. How she had longed for a daughter of her own...

Downstairs, she heard Rodolphus finally cast the Killing Curse on one of the two Muggles, perhaps done watching his wife play with them. A bolt of fear struck Narcissa when she thought of the baby in her arms. She couldn't imagine what her deranged sister would do to Hermione.

Looking around, she made her decision quickly. Narcissa used a number of useful redecorating spells and in the blink of an eye, the nursery had been transformed into a plain guestroom. Then, she Apparated back to Malfoy Manor with Hermione tucked safely in her arms.

It was less than an hour later when Lucius came home to find her sitting in Draco's nursery, watching Hermione sleep in the duplicated crib, tucked into pink, frilly sheets. "Narcissa, what have you done?" he asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

She was sure that he already knew but she answered anyway. "I couldn't let Bellatrix hurt her," she said, her voice wobbly with unshed tears.

"And just how are you planning on explaining another baby?" he pressed, a bit exasperated with her.

Narcissa turned to face her husband. "We didn't tell anyone that I was pregnant because the Healer told us it was likely to be another miscarriage," she said decisively. She saw some of the frustration leave his body. She knew that Lucius shared her pain of all their losses. "She was born premature and we were told she wouldn't survive infancy. But she was such a strong baby, my Hermione."

"Sounds like you've thought this all through," he teased, before his face grew serious again. "And when she grows up as a Squib? There cannot be a Squib Malfoy."

"Oh no, Lucius, Hermione is a very powerful witch," Narcissa promised him. "I could feel it as soon as I entered her room. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have taken her."

He recoiled. "A Mudblood?" he asked, concerned.

Narcissa bit her lip. "I know...I know some blood magic that would make her a Malfoy by blood. No one would be the wiser," she explained. "I researched it when Andromeda married her Mudblood."

His eyes skipped from the little girl to Draco's crib. Lucius was a hard man but he was prone to giving his wife most of what she wanted.

Narcissa could see his resolve crumbling. Standing up, she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest. "Please Lucius," she pleaded.

The wizard couldn't say no to his pretty young wife. If Hermione was Narcissa's only chance of having a daughter, he would oblige. And, if her instincts were right, the child was already a powerful witch. "Alright," he agreed. "But we do the ritual tonight. We can't let anyone know the truth."

Narcissa was only too happy to perform the blood ritual, and by the time the sun came up, Hermione was well and truly _hers_.

But daybreak brought other news as well. Harry Potter had survived the Killing Curse and the Dark Lord was dead - vanquished by the very child that he'd set out to kill.

Though she knew he would deny it if pressed, Lucius was relieved, if only because it meant that their new daughter would face less scrutiny. It was a blow to their cause, but Lucius would continue to work in the Wizengamot.

Bellatrix and Rodolphus had also been taken to Azkaban, which made things infinitely easier. They wouldn't be around to ask about the origins of her child either. Narcissa also didn't fancy facing her parents. Maybe she could work on a Memory Charm to trick them into thinking they'd known about Hermione all along.

Lucius was more comfortable with Hermione that morning. It helped that Hermione was an exceptionally sweet child. She and Draco were already getting on better than Narcissa could have hoped. In the light of day, she was a bit concerned that Hermione didn't really look much like a Malfoy, but she knew that no one would dare question her and Lucius. No one would dare look at Hermione and suggest that she was anything less than a Malfoy or Narcissa would have something to say about it.

Narcissa spent the day imagining teas with Hermione while Lucius and Draco went to Quidditch, birthday parties with ponies, and sleepovers with Daphne Greengrass. She dreamed of the wonderful bond that Draco and Hermione would have -sibling rivalry over who would get better marks, each trying to impress their parents more.

She'd taken a risk taking Hermione under her wing, but she thought it was well worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione Malfoy was so excited to finally be going to Hogwarts with her younger brother, Draco. They had been constantly jockeying to see who could impress their tutors more with their studies, but Hogwarts would show them who was smarter once and for all. After all, marks were definitive - one of them would _have_ to come out on top.

She was looking forward to forging her own identity at school as well, sick of being seen as just Draco's sister to so many people. They had some similarities, yes - both were highly ambitious and as aforementioned, intelligent - but as they grew older, their differences had grown more and more apparent. Draco loved doing 'boy activities' like playing Quidditch and roughhousing with Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott, while Hermione preferred more solitary endeavors like horseback riding, ballet dancing, and reading. She did have some girlfriends, like Daphne Greengrass, but she didn't always click with her mother's friends' daughters.

Another huge difference between Hermione and her brother was her appearance. While they were both pale, Hermione didn't possess Draco's white blond hair or silver eyes. Her hair was rather wild and curly, the color of brown sugar, and her mother frequently told her that her expressive brown eyes reminded her of her sister Bellatrix.

The train ride to Hogwarts was uneventful, aside from a distressed chubby-faced boy looking for his toad. Hermione and Draco stuck together, neither one of them wanting to reveal that they were nervous.

While they were waiting in line to join the Welcoming Feast and be sorted, Draco tugged on the sleeve of her robes. "Hermione, that's Harry Potter," he pointed out a boy with messy black hair. "Come talk to him with me. Father told me to make friends with him."

Hermione walked confidently next to her brother as he went to introduce himself to the boy. "Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy, and this is my sister, Hermione," he said, puffing out his chest proudly. Father had sat them both down and told them about the value of the Malfoy name and how it was sure to impress people; he also emphasized that their actions reflected on the whole family.

Potter seemed plain and unremarkable, so she couldn't understand _why_ her father would even want Draco to be friends with him. He couldn't even fix his own glasses! Proud to show off the magic she already knew, Hermione drew her wand. "I can fix your glasses for you, if you like," she said, pointing her wand between his eyes before he could even react. " _Occulus reparo_ ," she said, watching as the spell executed. She was quite pleased with her handiwork.

She heard a snort of derision coming from the boy standing with Potter. "What a bloody show-off," he said with a sneer.

Hermione's shoulders slumped, upset that she might be disliked for being a well-accomplished witch. Draco was already defending her to the red-haired boy, Ron Weasley (blood traitors, she knew), but the damage was already done. Potter wanted nothing to do with them, so the Malfoys slinked back into line before they were let into the Great Hall.

Potter and Weasley were both sorted into Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat barely touched Draco's head before it shouted out Slytherin. But then it was her turn.

The Hat took an inordinately long time with her, debating between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw was where it really wanted to put her, but Hermione kept chanting " _Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin_ " in her head until it finally relented and placed her in the house of her ancestors. She was glad to see most of her friends in Slytherin, too.

"Please don't tell father how long it took the Hat to place me," she begged Draco, feeling embarrassed that the Hat didn't seem to think she belonged there.

"I won't," he agreed. "You ended up where you belong, didn't you?"

Even if the Hat had considered other Houses, Hermione did her best to win House points for Slytherin. She was often the first to master spells in class and always had the correct answer to her professors' questions. To her dismay, it was met with teasing from Weasley, who constantly called her a showoff.

Some of her own housemates could be cruel as well. Pansy Parkinson seemed to have it out for her in particular. One day, Hermione heard her gossiping with Tracey Davis in the common room. "Can you believe how bushy her hair is? And such an atrocious _brown_ color. I bet she isn't even really a Malfoy. All Malfoys have blond hair - even Mrs. Malfoy!"

Over winter break, Hermione sobbed to her mother, telling her everything Pansy had said. Her mother soothed her. "Pansy doesn't know a thing. You've seen the portrait of my sisters and me. I have blonde hair, yes, but Bellatrix's hair is black as midnight and Andromeda has the same beautiful shade of brown as you," she said with a sweet smile, running her hand through her daughter's curly locks. "That's where you get your curl from as well. You just have a bit more of the Black family in you than Draco does."

When they returned to school, Pansy received a Howler from her mother, berating her for questioning the legitimacy of a _Malfoy_. The chances of Parkinson being considered for a marriage contract with Draco were now ruined. And after Hermione got the highest marks in a century at midterm, Hermione stopped caring about what Ronald Weasley thought of her, too.

* * *

Second year was uneventful. Draco joined the Quidditch team so he had less time for her than usual. She loved to cheer him on, though. Most people were afraid that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened and Slytherin's monster had been released. Hermione wasn't- she was a Malfoy, after all, not a prime target for Slytherin's monster. And in any case, it was _just_ a basilisk.

Hermione was bitterly disappointed to learn that it was dumb Ginny Weasley who had opened the Chamber. She wished she could have seen it...imagine all the history in that one room! Exams were cancelled as well, to Hermione's dismay.

* * *

Third year was a bit more dicey. Sirius Black, who was their cousin, had managed to escape Azkaban prison. Mother had explicitly told her and Draco that they must not help him in any way if he contacted them. He was the bad sort of family, like Great-Uncle Alphard and Aunt Andromeda. Hermione didn't need telling, though. All the posters of Sirius Black's crazed face scared her.

They had their third Defense professor in as many years - Professor Remus Lupin. Hermione did have somewhat of an infatuation with him. He knew _so much_ material and he never sneered at her questions. Plus, she knew his secret.

Hermione couldn't believe that no one else had realized he was a werewolf. She didn't see why he would have to hide his condition, so long as he took his monthly Wolfsbane. He was just as human as she was, except for once a month. She wouldn't voice these opinions, though. Father wouldn't like it.

At the end of the year, the Board of Governors learned of Lupin's secret, too. He left the school before he could be sacked.

* * *

Fourth year was when it felt like everything changed for Hermione. The Triwizard Tournament brought students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. And she suddenly found herself very interested in boys. Of course, she had gossiped about boys with Daphne and Tracey, but she was suddenly overcome by how broad Theo's shoulders were and how Blaise's eyes lit up when he smiled. She was sure that none of them had similar thoughts about her - Hermione was a know-it-all bookworm and Draco's sister to boot.

Viktor Krum was chosen as Durmstrang's champion, which wasn't a surprise to anyone. He was an international Quidditch star for one, and it sounded like he was quite smart as well. She noticed him in the library a lot, but she never would have dreamed that he was there for _her_. One day, he asked her for a book recommendation for a Potions essay and before she knew it, he was studying regularly with her.

Well, studying was a relative term, she supposed.

Hermione Malfoy was the talk of the school when Viktor - the Bulgarian Beefcake, as the _Daily Prophet_ was calling him - asked her to the Yule Ball. She was even more surprised when Adrian Pucey, a rather sweet sixth-year Slytherin, asked her as well. She politely declined, seeing as she had already agreed to go with Viktor.

Draco was suspicious of Viktor's intentions, given that he was a bit older than she was, and wrote their parents. They were both excessively pleased to hear the news, and mother sent her a dress that was incredibly beautiful and tailored to fit her perfectly. Viktor and Hermione danced the night away at the Ball; it was the most fun she'd had in her entire life. She'd been kissed before, but she thought her heart might beat right out of her chest when Viktor gave her her first _French_ kiss goodnight.

She could scarcely imagine that her life could change much more, but little did she know that she was about to meet a man who would change her life forever.

* * *

With Daphne on a month-long holiday in the Swiss Alps with her family and Draco off visiting Blaise at his Italian villa, Hermione hardly had anything to look forward to except her end-of-year marks. It ended up leaving her feeling rather bored, overwhelmed by the banality of everyday life.

Her mother had invited her to join her in Diagon Alley for some shopping, but Hermione had been on an excruciatingly long shopping trip the day before and wasn't up for it. Her father was holed up in his study and had expressly told her not to bother him unless she was in duress. She ended up in the library, feeling rather lonely. She thought about writing a letter to Viktor - who had asked to keep correspondence with her when they parted at the end of the school year - but she had written him the day before and didn't want to seem overly attached.

Just as Hermione thought she might go spare from the boredom, her house-elf popped into the library, carrying a letter with the Hogwarts seal. "A letter for you, Miss Hermione," it said, offering her the letter.

"Thank you, Ruby," Hermione said before tearing open the envelope. "It must be my marks," she added with a smirk.

Quickly skimming the text, Hermione squealed when she saw what was inside. Oh, _surely_ she could interrupt her father for such good news. Hermione raced down the stairs, parchment clutched in her hand. She stopped for a moment in front of the heavy oak door to her father's study to compose herself. She didn't need to be scolded for running in the halls.

Her excitement didn't permit her to knock, though. Pushing the door open, Hermione waved the parchment in the air. "Father! My marks have come in today!" she said, bursting into the room. She stopped short, seeing her father sitting with another man. "Oh father, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were entertaining company," she said, her cheeks flushing bright red. She hoped that her punishment would not be too severe. "I'll return to my room."

But the mysterious man spoke first. "By all means, please come and join us," he said, his voice smooth and a bit quiet, as though he wasn't used to speaking much. "You must be the daughter I've heard so much about."

Hermione looked to her father for reassurance. When he nodded, she sat down on the settee opposite the man. She took a moment to observe him.

He appeared younger than her father, perhaps in his early thirties, but it was always difficult to tell with wizards. His hair was lush and dark. While his skin was a bit sallow and almost...waxy, it didn't diminish his handsomeness one bit. And his best feature by far was his mesmerizing eyes.

Her father cleared his throat. "Hermione, this is Lord Voldemort. My daughter, Hermione," he introduced them.

Hermione's eyes visibly widened. When Harry Potter had come back from the maze saying that Lord Voldemort was back, no one had believed him except for Dumbledore. However, her father had told both her and Draco that he had in fact returned, only they shouldn't speak of it. She never dreamed that she would meet the most powerful wizard of her time.

"When I...disappeared, I was not yet aware of your presence, though I had met your brother," Lord Voldemort said. His voice was nearly as mesmerizing as his eyes. His quiet tone drew her in when he spoke, causing her to hang onto his every word. "I am pleased to see that despite your difficult birth, you seem to be thriving now. But I believe you had marks to share with your father."

It was odd to be ordered by an outsider in her own home, but Hermione found herself complying. "Yes, they just arrived," she said, tearing her eyes away from him to hand her father the parchment.

Her father was obviously pleased. "I promised Hermione that if she was first in her class again, she could get a kitten," her father explained to the Dark Lord. "Congratulations, Hermione," he said, beaming at her, clearly proud that his daughter was so intelligent.

"May I?" Voldemort asked, holding out his hand to demand the parchment. His eyes also widened somewhat when he read it. "Very well done, Hermione. You must have some of the highest marks in a century, surpassing even Severus. What is your favorite subject?"

Hermione bit her lip, knowing that she should say Potions. "While I find Potions interesting, I do enjoy Arithmancy more," Hermione said truthfully, hoping that her answer was diplomatic enough.

"I am the same," Lord Voldemort assured her with a smirk. "Don't worry, I won't tell your Head of House."

"Professor Snape is a wonderful professor. I always enjoy his classes," she lied.

Her father looked uncomfortable, wanting to remove her from the conversation as quickly as possible. "I will have to take you to pick out your familiar tomorrow, Hermione," he said.

Understanding that she'd been dismissed, Hermione stood up. "Yes, of course, father. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Voldemort," she said politely to their guest before exiting the room as quickly as possible.

On her way out, she heard him inquire about the nature of her birth.

* * *

Hermione didn't see Lord Voldemort again until Christmas break. He was the guest of honor at a holiday dinner her mother had organized to welcome back her Aunt Bellatrix and Uncle Rodolphus. Rodolphus's younger brother Rabastan came as well.

She tried not to show how much her Aunt Bellatrix frightened her, but she couldn't forget the way she'd reacted when she learned that Narcissa had a second child but hadn't told her about it. Bellatrix's mind was frayed from the years spent in Azkaban prison, so it was difficult to have reasonable conversations with her. Bellatrix was so thankful to Lord Voldemort for freeing her, but Hermione found it a bit embarrassing to watch her fawn over him. But she would never dream of saying anything about it.

Rodolphus was quite silent and gaunt. He did little to calm his wife's fanaticism. Rabastan had cruel eyes and a crueler smile, so Hermione made every effort to avoid being alone with him. She kept as close to Draco as possible, not enjoying the way Rabastan's eyes followed her after she entered the dining room in her gorgeous green velvet dress.

Lord Voldemort was as charming and handsome as Hermione remembered. He politely asked to meet the kitten she'd chosen for her good grades. She'd blushed when Crookshanks - the rather old half-Kneazle she'd selected when she'd heard he'd been in Magical Menagerie for a long time - slunk out from his hiding place to meet the Dark wizard. Hermione had never been embarrassed by her bandy-legged companion, but she was somewhat worried about what Lord Voldemort would think of her choice. Instead, he simply complimented Crookshanks' stately appearance.

He also asked her about her coming school year and if she was nervous to take the OWLs at the end of term.

"My midterm grades are promising. I hope to break Professor Snape's record again, but I _am_ taking one more OWL than he did, so it might be challenging," she said, eager to share her plans.

Draco was also eager to share his progress in school, keen to make an impression on the Dark Lord. There was no secret that he wanted to follow in their father's footsteps and become a Death Eater as well. Still, it was obvious that Hermione was the smarter of the two Malfoy siblings.

"One class I am absolutely not worried about passing is Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione said without thinking, biting her lip and looking up and down the table, hoping that she wasn't overstepping any boundary. Of course, she had been addressed by Lord Voldemort first, but it was no secret that children were meant to be seen and not heard at the dinner table.

Bellatrix tittered from her end of the table. "Spoken like a true Slytherin!" she said in delight, obviously proud of her niece. "You'd rather be _performing_ the Dark Art rather than defending yourself from them, right?"

"Well, not exactly, Aunt Bellatrix," Hermione corrected her. "We haven't learned any spells at all. The daft Ministry witch they sent to teach us doesn't know anything. She's a horrible woman and I have no idea how she rose so high in the Ministry! I'd rather have Professor Lupin back."

"Hermione!" her mother chastised her, horrified at how outspoken she was being.

"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione," her father scolded. "Lupin is a werewolf. He isn't a suitable professor."

"So?" Hermione questioned, feeling emboldened to finally share her feelings. "He's a wizard every day out of the month except for one. Why can't werewolves be professors? In fact, I think many magical beings are horribly mistreated by our Ministry - werewolves, goblins, centaurs."

Her father looked furious. "Hermione, I must insist—"

But Lord Voldemort cut him off. "No, let her speak. I want to hear what she has to say," he encouraged her to continue.

She blushed from the roots of her hair down to her neck, but Hermione cleared her throat and continued. "We should learn to treat magical beings better. They can think and communicate and just want the same things that us witches and wizards do. If someone could... I don't know, gather all the magical beings up and give them a voice, they would have a lot of power and a lot of support. They could even take down the Ministry."

Silence filled the dining room and even Draco was looking at her as if she had grown a second head. Wanting to do a bit of damage control, her father apologized for Hermione's outburst, wondering aloud what had gotten into her.

To her immense surprise, Lord Voldemort only smiled. "Hermione is maturing into an intelligent, beautiful witch," he said. "She isn't afraid to speak her mind. I assume you and Narcissa have begun to think about marriage contracts?"

Salazar, Hermione wanted to be swallowed up into a hole under the table, wondering why they were talking about her future like she wasn't even there. And really, should their company be involved in this discussion?

"We've received a few offers," her father confirmed. "But Narcissa and I have yet to agree on someone."

"I want to make sure someone suitable is chosen for her. Hermione has the potential to be a huge asset to our cause and I don't want her spirit to go to waste," he said before returning to his dinner. "Perhaps you'll allow me to review the contract before you sign it?"

Such a request from outside the family was highly unusual and her father seemed uncomfortable with the suggestion. But, of course, there was no arguing with Lord Voldemort. Her father reluctantly agreed.

* * *

The end of her fifth year was the worst yet. Apparently there had been some sort of break-in at the Ministry of Magic and her father had been arrested. The trial had been awful, but she and Draco both knew that they had to be strong for their mother. Still, Hermione wasn't prepared when her father was _actually_ sentenced to an indefinite time in Azkaban while Harry Potter and his awful, _blood traitor_ friends didn't have any repercussions at all!

She managed to remain composed until they returned home, where she started crying, the tears rolling down her face silently.

Their house-elf appeared and informed them that they had visitors waiting in the library. Her mother was far too much of a mess for visitors. Draco, taking out his anger by falling into his new role as man of the house, told the house-elf in no uncertain terms that they would not be receiving any visitors that day.

"Mistress, it's your sister; she brought the Dark Lord," the small elf said, already shaking for fear of being punished for talking back.

Hermione knew that her mother held a lot of resentment towards her sister for escaping the Department of Mysteries while her husband had not. It didn't help that Bellatrix insinuated that the Dark Lord blamed Lucius for the failure to retrieve whatever they were trying to get and letting Harry Potter destroy it. Couldn't they see that it was all Potter? That _he_ was to blame?

She intended to tell him just that, and marched off in the direction of the library, not waiting to see if Draco or her mother followed. Throwing open the doors, she was surprised to see that Voldemort looked sympathetic. He did not seem like he was going to punish them for her father's mistakes.

"I came as soon as I heard the sentence. We cannot allow this to stand," he said quietly. "Narcissa, I will free Lucius as soon as I am able."

"It wasn't his fault," Hermione said anyway, unable to help herself. "Harry Potter gets away with _everything_. I hate him. I _hate_ Harry Potter!" she added, bitterly. It was a promise, or a vow, that she would never see him as anything but an enemy. If that stupid, arrogant boy wasn't always sticking his nose where it didn't belong, her father would be home with them.

Lord Voldemort rewarded her with a sharklike smile, unusually pleased considering the situation. "Help me, then, Hermione," he offered, his voice like silk. "Help me kill Harry Potter."

She felt her breath leave her. Her mother made a strangled noise, but didn't speak for her. Looking up at the Dark Lord, she pledged to do everything she could. "I will!"


	3. Chapter 3

The long ride on the Hogwarts Express was dull, the rhythmic shaking of the train going over the tracks nearly enough to lull Hermione to sleep. To pass the time, she stared across the compartment at her brother. Draco was doing his best to look bored, but Hermione knew him too well - his mind was whizzing, thinking, planning. He carried on banal conversation with Blaise and ignored Pansy Parkinson, who was hanging onto his arm like some sort of barnacle, but he wouldn't be able to think of much more than what they had been tasked with that year.

Pansy simpered, trying to be included in the discussion. She would never understand that neither of the Malfoys wanted anything to do with her. Hermione wasn't so naive as to think that Draco didn't fool around with her now and again, but there was no way he'd ever end up married to her. Her brother would most likely end up with one of the Greengrasses. Probably not Daphne - their personalities were too different, even if she was Hermione's best friend - but maybe Astoria.

Mother would approve of Astoria, Hermione thought with a grin.

Now, who Hermione would end up with ... she had no idea, especially with her father in prison...

... her mind darkened, thinking of how her father came to be in that awful prison. Azkaban was no place for a man as noble and perfect as her father. Her family wasn't even allowed to visit him, although he was permitted one letter a month. The content was highly monitored, so it wasn't as if genuine thoughts could be shared. Her heart clenched at the thought of his white gold hair and how dirty it must be.

Her hatred for Saint Potter flared up again, always simmering under the surface. Harry Potter would pay for what he did to her father. The Dark Lord would see to it, and Hermione would be there to help him.

Draco's eyes narrowed suddenly, conveying some meaning to her - and she was certain it had nothing to do with the way Blaise had casually slung his arm around her shoulder. They were just about to arrive at Hogsmeade Station.

"You two better hurry up and change before we make it to Hogsmeade," Draco ordered the other two Slytherins. "Hermione and I will meet you up at the castle."

Pansy immediately began to whine. "But Draco—"

"Don't _argue_ with me," Draco cut her off, disgusted. "Hermione and I are prefects. I'd hate to lose House points the second we arrive at school." His tone left no room for argument and their housemates left the siblings alone in silence.

Draco looked up at the luggage racks. Hermione pursed her lips in agreement before looking out the window. She could feel the train slowing down until it eventually came to a stop.

Before she could blink, Draco had stood and cast a spell. " _Petrificus totalus,"_ he said nonchalantly. A bewildered Harry Potter fell to the floor in a heap. "Well, well, well, Hermione. It looks like we've found an eavesdropper."

Hermione felt her fingers tighten around her own vinewood wand. "It's not polite to spy on people, Potter," she whispered.

"We'll have to teach him a little lesson, now, won't we?" Draco asked with a smirk.

"Yes, flip him over and lift up his shirt," she instructed, watching as Draco moved the other wizard with his wand. "I've been wanting to use this jinx all summer." Wordlessly, she moved her wand in the intricate pattern she'd memorized and watched impassively as the words 'arrogant rat' appeared across his back in painful boils. If she was lucky, it would scar permanently.

Draco's face remained grim as he laid the boy on his back and brought his heel down against Potter's nose. Hermione's stomach churned at the noise, but she forced herself not to look away. "That's for our father," Draco told him, covering him with the Invisibility Cloak Potter had been using.

"Enjoy your trip, Potter," Hermione sneered. "London's not _too_ far."

The two siblings left the train quickly then. They didn't speak of what they had done, and instead linked arms and walked to the school gates. When they got there, they were annoyed to find Filch and Professor Flitwick rifling through their trunks.

Draco, naturally, kicked up a fuss. It was Hermione's job to be the calm and level-headed one. "Let them search, Draco," she said confidently. "It's not as if _we_ have anything to hide." She felt the silver locket around her neck burn against her skin, practically shouting it's ill intent. She _did_ have something to hide...but they would never find it.

The Dark Lord had given her at least fifty books that were strictly forbidden at Hogwarts. She had created an undetectable extension charm on a little bag and subsequently transfigured it into her necklace. She was really quite astounded at her brilliance sometimes.

Eventually Professor Snape had to step in and vouch for their possessions, something that irked the two Malfoys fiercely. They didn't need reminding that their family name did not carry as much weight with their father in prison. But the two were finally able to enter the feast.

Neither of them were pleased to see Potter enter the Great Hall only a few minutes later, nose unbroken.

* * *

The Dark Lord had told her that it would be in their best interest if she could cultivate a relationship with the man, but he hadn't shared why that was. Honestly, Hermione would walk through the Great Hall naked if the Dark Lord told her it would help take down Harry Potter, so she didn't question him too much.

She'd thought that she and Draco would be obvious choices to join the Slug Club, seeing as they were by and far the best in their year at Potions. Potter had become annoyingly good at the subject, almost inexplicably. However, she was disappointed to hear from Blaise that Professor Slughorn wasn't interested in inviting the children of Death Eaters into the Slug Club.

Hermione Malfoy wasn't going to let that stand.

Hermione waited a week before approaching Professor Slughorn. She decided to go after dinner because she knew he'd have already had a brandy by then. On the way, she stopped in the girls' lavatory to splash her face with some cold water, making her face look red and blotchy. Pulling out her perfectly white, crisp handkerchief (the one with her initials embroidered on it), Hermione balled up the fabric in her hands, wanting to make the professor think that she'd been crying. Taking a minute to think about her poor father locked up in Azkaban made real tears threaten to slip over her cheeks.

Tears brimming in her eyes, she finally knocked on the door. She could hear Slughorn knocking about on the other side and fought the urge to roll her eyes at his ineptitude. When the portly old man finally opened the door, he took one look at her and ushered her in. "My dead, what is the matter?" he questioned softly. "I'll call for a spot of tea."

Hermione entered into his apartments, taking a look at the shabby surroundings. Grimly, she noted that a lumpy old couch seemed to be the only place to sit. "I'm so sorry to disturb you, Professor..." she trailed off, trying to do her best job at acting helpless. "I just thought that you might be the only person who could help me with a problem I'm having."

Slughorn offered her a weak cup of tea. "Well, go on then," he encouraged.

Hermione took a tiny sip, trying not to make a face. "It's just...well, since the beginning of the year, all of the other students have been so _cruel_ to me. At every chance they get," Hermione lied.

Professor Slughorn seemed uncomfortable. "Wouldn't you be better served bringing this up with your Head of House, Miss Malfoy?" he asked gently.

She sniffled to hide a little smile at the thought of Professor Snape giving her any advice about dealing with bullies. "No, Professor Snape has no time for the _frivolity of girlish emotions_ ," she whispered. She looked into Professor Slughorn's eyes hopefully. "Besides, I thought...I thought you might be different than the other professors. That you'd be more...understanding?"

Slughorn swelled with pride. Flattery would get you everywhere with him... he could be manipulated into doing whatever she wanted in that case. "Well, Miss Malfoy, what are the other students bothering you about?"

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath thinking about the white blond hair in a dirty, cold cell again, all alone in Azkaban. The genuine sob that came bubbling up did just the trick. "My father."

Immediately, Slughorn stiffened, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

"I know what he did was wrong," Hermione reassured him. "But mother, Draco, and I had _no idea_ that he was involved. He's usually so busy with his work at the Ministry and being on the Board of Governors here...his absences never seemed unusual. And now everyone is calling me a _Death Eater_ , when I'm not!" she said indignantly, hoping that her insistence would convince the old professor. "I'm _not_!" she said again, pushing up her sleeve to show a bare and Dark Mark free left forearm. "I didn't know..." she trailed off, letting her tears wet her cheeks.

Awkwardly, Slughorn wrapped an arm around her, apparently trying to be comforting. "There, there, Miss Malfoy. I believe you. Dry your eyes," he said, watching as she wiped furiously at her eyes with the handkerchief. "I will speak with the Headmaster and we will put an end to this nonsense."

Hermione looked up at him. She had him _completely_ fooled, she thought, hiding a smirk. "Thank you," she said graciously. "I do feel better, just knowing that at least _someone_ believes me."

"I do, my dear," he reassured her. "Now, why don't you head off to the common room and try to get some rest?"

Hermione nodded and stood up to leave the room. "Yes, I think that seems like the best idea. Thank you _so_ much, Professor," she said, trying to give him one last ego boost before she left.

But when she left his apartments, she had no intention of returning to her common room. Instead, she climbed the stairs to the seventh floor. Looking around to make sure that no one was in the hallway with her, she walked back and forth in front of the tapestry and soon a plain door appeared. The room behind it was exactly as she'd imagined it.

It was a small library, with every inch of available wall space covered in shelves of books. There was a large wooden cabinet in one corner. Opposite the cabinet was a huge fireplace and mantle, a painting of her family hanging on top of it. A plush loveseat, perfect for curling up with a book, was angled in front of the fireplace, a pure white sheepskin rug underneath it.

Hermione knelt in front of the fireplace, relishing in the softness of the rug on her bare legs. " _Incendio_ ," she cast to ignite the wood in the fireplace. Watching as the fire grew slowly, its flames like tongues lapping at the wood, she waited until it was roaring and popping before she threw in some Floo powder.

"Riddle Manor!" she called, initiating a Floo call.

Because the fire was so large, the image of Lord Voldemort's face came through perfectly clear. It was almost as if she was seeing him in person. "Good evening, my Lord," she greeted him demurely.

The Dark Lord's gaze was heavy on her, and she hoped that she didn't look too out of place. Giving herself a discrete once over, she was sure that her toffee-colored hair was not out of place and her uniform was neatly pressed, save for the loosened Slytherin tie around her neck.

"Hermione," he said simply. "You've been crying." Perhaps he'd noticed the slight puffiness around her eyes.

She smiled, impressed that he had noticed. "Merely crocodile tears, for Professor Slughorn," she said, lying a little bit. She _had_ cried to manipulate her professor, but they represented the real distress she felt for her father. Emotion like that wasn't really tolerated in Malfoys, though.

"Excellent," he said, his eyes lighting up. "And just how is our...mutual friend?"

"I think I've sufficiently convinced him that I'd no idea what my father was up to," Hermione explained, glad to have completed her first task for Lord Voldemort. "Though I did have to show him my arm."

"I'm sure it only cemented his opinion," the Dark Lord assured her that she'd made the right call. "Let me know when you get the invitation. Horace would be an excellent addition to my forces. He is extremely well connected."

So the Dark Lord wanted Professor Slughorn to be a Death Eater, Hermione thought with surprise. She was pleased to know that he trusted her enough to share these details with her. She preened, it was wonderful to be acknowledged and appreciated by such a powerful wizard.

"Of course, my Lord," she agreed.

"And I see you've found the cabinet," the Dark Lord remarked, his gaze falling over her shoulder to where the massive cabinet sat in the corner of the room amongst the many books.

"Yes," Hermione said proudly. "When I first found the room, it was full of junk, but I quickly figured out that the Room bends to what you desire. I think I've made it far more attractive. I'm calling it 'Hermione's Library', so if you need to Floo me, that is what it is called."

Biting her lower lip, she thought over her next words carefully. She didn't want to question her Lord's plans, but she also desperately wanted to understand. "My Lord, I don't understand why we couldn't just use this Floo to get everyone into the castle, instead of using the Vanishing Cabinet?" she questioned cautiously, hoping she didn't offend him. "The room is Unplottable, untraceable. The Ministry would never know."

The Dark Lord smiled at her, clearly impressed. "I admire your thinking, Hermione. Unfortunately, the Room is still under the wards of Hogwarts. The school would never allow the wards to be breached by individuals without the Headmaster's permission. The Death Eaters wouldn't be able to get in."

Hermione frowned, hoping to mask her disappointment. She was hoping that she might have been able to save them months of effort. But of course the Dark Lord would have already thought of a solution so simple if it was possible. "So, I suppose there is no chance of me coming through to speak to you in person either?" she asked. There was something thrilling about being in the wizard's presence that she wanted to experience again. Yule seemed so far away.

"No, I'm afraid not. The school knows when its students leave its grounds," he said. "Now, you had better run along to your common room. I would hate for you to lose House points so early in the school year."

She was amused that he thought about something as trivial as House points. "Did you forget that I am a prefect this year, my Lord?" she teased.

"Of course not," Voldemort assured her. He had told her he was quite pleased with the position in the school that she had carved out for herself. It could only be useful to him. "I will speak to you again in a week about your progress. And I expect to have a discussion with you on Bridget Wenlock's _The Power of Seven,_ so you had better have read it by then."

"Yes, my Lord," she agreed, watching as the flames slowly faded back to their normal golden color.


	4. Chapter 4

In the week since classes had resumed, rumors had been circulating that Harry Potter had been confined to the hospital wing due to painful boils on his back. Hermione's glee only grew with each hushed whisper she overheard. But she needed to go and see it for herself. She decided to swing by the infirmary after completing her rounds. Creeping towards the infirmary, she was annoyed to see Professor McGonagall, Headmaster Dumbledore, and a Healer from St. Mungo's in a huddle. Holding her breath, Hermione tried to hear what they were saying.

Despite being sure that she was moving as quiet as a mouse, Dumbledore turned to look at her as if he'd sensed her presence. That alerted McGonagall, too. She loudly offered to walk the Healer back to the Headmaster's office so he could use the Floo there.

Then the corridor was empty save for Hermione and the Headmaster.

"Miss Malfoy," Headmaster Dumbledore greeted her, his eyes betraying his mistrust of her. "What are you doing here at this time of night?"

"Well, sir, I was just completing my assigned rounds for the evening. I was on my way back to Slytherin House," Hermione replied. She watched as Dumbledore's face changed, seeming to believe her words. She bit her lower lip, hoping to get more information about Potter. "Is Potter going to be alright?" she asked innocently.

Dumbledore's blue eyes were glinting in the torchlight. "Yes, the Healer from St. Mungo's was finally able to heal his boils, but unfortunately, he will be left with the scars from his attack for the rest of his life."

Hermione thought that was rather dramatic, but restrained from rolling her eyes. He already had one scar on his face - what were a few more? "That's so awful," she said, eyes on her shoes. "And does he know who did it to him? I hope that they will be sufficiently punished," Hermione asked, wanting to suss out how much Dumbledore knew and how much Potter was tattling.

He frowned deeply. Dumbledore was obviously taken aback by her curiosity and insistence. "No, I am afraid Mister Potter hasn't revealed the identity of his attacker. Miss Malfoy, are you sure you don't have anything you wish to tell me?" he asked. "Because if you know anything, you should come forward."

"No, Headmaster," Hermione replied dutifully. "I'm afraid I don't know anything that would help. Now, if you don't mind, I think I will return to my common room."

"I think that would be wise," Dumbledore agreed.

Hermione did not wait after being dismissed. She skipped down the stairs towards the dungeons. When she got back in the common room, Draco was waiting for her even though the rest of their friends had already gone to bed. The fire had died down in the hearth, leaving only embers; it did little to warm the stone room underneath the lake.

"Well?" Hermione asked expectantly.

"You were right," Draco revealed begrudgingly, handing her an ornately decorated invitation. "We have both been invited to the first meeting of the Slug Club in two weeks."

Hermione felt a self-satisfied smirk slip onto her face. " _He_ will be pleased as well," Hermione said. Draco should have never doubted her abilities. If the Dark Lord asked her to do something, she was going to get it done.

She sat down next to her brother on the plush leather couch. "What?" she questioned. "You look like you still have something to tell me."

Draco shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Blaise will be taking you to Hogsmeade next weekend," he finally spat out, perhaps knowing how well it would go over with her.

Hermione's eyes narrowed immediately. "What did you say?"

"I said that Blaise asked me if he could take you to Hogsmeade this weekend and I gave him my permission," he repeated. Clearly, he had gone over this discussion in his head.

"Since when do you tell me who I have _permission_ to go to Hogsmeade with?" Hermione snarled. "Why couldn't Blaise just ask me?"

"Hermione, with Father in Azkaban" — his eyes softened when he saw her flinch at the mention of their father in such a filthy, horrid place — "it falls on my shoulders to negotiate a marriage contract for you. So, you will be going to Hogsmeade with Blaise, as he wishes to court you."

"What about Adrian?" Hermione asked, thinking about the wizard who had occupied most of her time over the last year.

"What about him? If he wanted your hand, he would have contacted father about it already," Draco responded flippantly, not thinking about how much his words would hurt her. "Besides, you know his family is neutral. There is no way that a relationship between the two of you would work."

Hermione knew that the Puceys weren't overt supporters of the Dark Lord, but surely they could be convinced? "I don't want to court or marry Blaise! He is a total womanizer - you and I both know he's never committed to anything in his whole life," Hermione argued. "And we have absolutely nothing in common!"

"Well, that was before. Blaise knows he needs to commit if he is going to find himself a pureblood wife," Draco answered. "But Hermione, you _are_ going with him. This is not up for discussion."

Hermione felt lost, hurt, and annoyed. Draco was not acting like her baby brother. She knew that he must be under a lot of pressure right now, as he was acting (temporarily, if she had anything to say about it) as the Head of the Malfoy family. Not only that, but the Dark Lord had given him a...difficult task to complete. "Fine, I'll go. But I'm _not_ going to like it," Hermione conceded after a long pause. She stood up and made her way towards the stairs to the girls' dormitories. "Good night, Draco."

* * *

After classes the following day, Hermione slipped up the stairs to the seventh floor so she could visit the Room of Requirement. In seconds, she was standing in Hermione's Library once again, waiting for the Dark Lord to Floo her.

She didn't have to wait long.

"Good afternoon, my Lord," Hermione said placidly, hoping that she had the same grace as her mother.

"Ah, Hermione. I wasn't sure if you'd be here," he answered. His visage was calm and serene.

Hermione often found herself thinking about the Dark Lord. She'd never met a wizard who was as intelligent and driven as he was. And, if she was honest, he was really quite good looking, too. Seeing him made her heart surge and feel like it was going to burst from her throat - a very queer feeling. But Hermione also knew better than to let it affect how she interacted with him. The Dark Lord deserved respect. And she didn't want to embarrass herself like Aunt Bellatrix, no matter how powerful his allure was.

"Do you have any updates on your task?" he asked.

"Draco and I both received invitations to the Slug Club yesterday," she told him with an indulgent smirk.

He looked pleased with her. "Excellent. And the other teachers?"

"I believe they have completely had their fears about us assuaged. Most of them just feel bad for us, and none suspect our true loyalties," Hermione said, pausing before she continued. "Although...Dumbledore has been keeping an annoyingly close watch on me lately."

Voldemort's brow furrowed, annoyed. "Oh? How so?" he questioned.

"Well, he just always seems to be around," she answered. "And he recently asked me if I had anything I would like to tell him...but almost like he already knew what I would have to tell?"

"That bumbling old fool," the Dark Lord cursed, before narrowing his eyes at her. "What did you do to raise suspicions?"

Hermione could already feel the corners of her lips turning up when she thought of pathetic Potter, but she tried desperately to stop the smile from overtaking her face. She would never want him to think she wasn't taking this seriously. "Draco and I...we might have given Potter a little present on behalf of our father. It was just a painful, permanent, but completely _untraceable_ jinx that I worked on over the summer."

"What does the jinx do?" he asked, trying to sound stern, but Hermione could tell he was impressed.

"It causes boils that leave scars," she explained, wrinkling her nose. "Somehow, though, Dumbledore knows I was involved. But he _can't_ prove it."

She watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hermione, didn't I specifically tell you not to do that?" he asked, thinly controlled rage boiling under the surface of his otherwise calm demeanor. "You must not stray out of the lines now! Nothing even remotely Dark outside of this room."

"Yes, my Lord." Hermione nodded, feeling upset that he was disappointed with her.

"And be sure to pass that along to Draco, as well," he instructed.

Hermione snorted, reminded of her annoyance with her brother at the moment. "I won't be speaking to him again for a while, but I'll be sure he gets the message."

"And why not?" Voldemort demanded.

"Because he is making me go to Hogsmeade with Blaise Zabini," Hermione told him, suddenly feeling silly once she said it out loud. It seemed so trivial and _childish_ , especially to a wizard as important and powerful as the Dark Lord. "Apparently as the Head of Malfoy House, it's in his best interest to set me up with his friend."

"And why do you not wish to go with Zabini?" he asked.

"Blaise is smart, of course, but he has never shown any commitment to anything. He's never had a girlfriend longer than it takes for him to sleep with her," Hermione complained. "And when he looks at you...he makes you feel like you are naked." She ran her hands up and down her arms.

"Is there someone else you'd wish to go with?" he asked her, obviously unsure of how to handle this.

Hermione was sure that he felt he was interfering in her family's ability to make a match for her. But Draco was interfering as well - he should wait until their father was out of Azkaban, if possible. "I've gone on some dates with Adrian Pucey and I like him alright. He's smart, good looking, and he treats me well," she told him. "I'm very sorry, my Lord. I shouldn't bore you with petty squabbles that are better left between family."

"Yes," he agreed, decidedly terse and obviously annoyed. "I expect an update later this week," he commanded before his face melted away into the flames as he ended the Floo connection.

Hermione sighed. She wished she could find a husband like the Dark Lord. He was intelligent, obviously, but incredibly powerful as well. And he was just about the only man in her life that allowed her to freely express her thoughts and beliefs, even if they were sometimes different from his own. Standing up, she made her way towards the door, intending to join the rest of the students for dinner.

As soon as she opened the wooden door, though, she let out a surprised gasp when she came face to face with Professor Snape.

"Miss Malfoy," he greeted in that trademark deep voice of his. "I saw you enter this room and was curious as to what it was. I've never seen it before. However, it wouldn't let me in."

Hermione's heart settled quickly, no longer in fear that she'd been caught red handed. She laughed. "Would you like to come in, Professor?" she asked, stepping aside to allow the tall, imposing man to glide into the room.

Professor Snape looked around, his eyes roving over the comfy settee, the massive fireplace, and most importantly, the shelves stuffed with books. He lingered on the Vanishing Cabinet, before turning to face her again. "What is this place?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"This, Professor," Hermione said, moving to recline on the couch, "is the Room of Requirement. When you walk by the door and think of what you need, the Room arranges itself to provide it for you. I was just looking for someplace private and cozy to do my studying."

"And the Vanishing Cabinet?" he asked, pressing his hand to the wood surface. He was obviously smart enough to know that this wasn't just for studying. "Is it...?"

"Yes, this is the Vanishing Cabinet whose twin resides at Borgin and Burke's. It needs some repairing and _he_ has asked me to take care of it," she said proudly. It was easy to talk to her Head of House, especially knowing that he was a Death Eater himself. Not only that, but she knew he was painfully brillant.

Professor Snape crossed the distance of the room before sitting next to her on the settee. His legs were so long and spindly that their knees almost touched. "Let me help you, Hermione," he offered, his dark eyes soothing. "Your mother has asked me to look after you and Draco."

Hermione pursed her lips, annoyed at her mother's meddling. "This is _my_ task. I want to prove that I can do it on my own," she said forcefully. She wanted to maintain the obvious favor that she currently held with the Dark Lord and prove herself useful to him. "There might be other things you could help me with, though."

Her professor looked at her, intrigued. "Such as?" he asked, his voice deep and not the least bit disinterested.

She bit her lip, hoping that he wouldn't lose his cool at her request. "Well, I will need to speak with the Dark Lord. We are able to Floo call from here, but I might need to get off of school grounds," she explained. "I would need a chaperone to go with me, and who better to take me than my Head of House?" she asked, a devious smile on her face.

Professor Snape nodded in agreement, not arguing like she thought he would. "I can do that," he agreed. "With the Dark Lord's permission, of course."

Hermione plastered a smile on her face. She hoped that the Dark Lord would agree and wouldn't be irritated with her for making plans on her own. "Perfect," she agreed.

"Well, Miss Malfoy, it is quite late. I would be remiss if I did not escort you back to Slytherin House," he said, standing up and offering her a hand.

The pair made their long trek down to the dungeons from the seventh floor. Snape was right, it _was_ quite late. Hermione supposed that she had talked to the Dark Lord longer than she'd intended. She would need to get an update from Draco on his progress. She was sure it would be dismal - her brother lacked the focus that was needed to plan such a task. Hermione wished that she had been tapped to take care of it from the outset, but she'd be happy to clean up Draco's mess.

When Professor Snape and Hermione finally arrived at the entrance to Slytherin House, he looked awkwardly at her. It almost seemed as if he had more to say to her. Finally, he wished her a good evening before turning away and striding off to his personal chambers. Hermione hoped he wouldn't try to interfere with her work.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite all of her arguments and well-crafted discourse, the following weekend found Hermione sitting across from Blaise Zabini in Madam Puddifoot's. She pouted and crossed her arms across her chest, staring at the good-looking wizard with a mixture of annoyance and revulsion.

"Blaise, _why_ did you ask Draco to take me to Hogsmeade?" she finally asked when their tea arrived, getting to the point. She wasn't going to sit through another hour of awkward silences and polite questions about each other's mothers. And she certainly wasn't going to serve tea to her date, even if it would scandalize Narcissa Malfoy to see her daughter being such a poor hostess.

"Because I wish to court you," Blaise replied tersely, staring at his still empty teacup.

Hermione took a sip of her tea before adding one additional sugar cube. "We both know that is preposterous," she fired back. "I don't like you and you don't like me. It's not as if we haven't known each other for the past six years. I know you. You are nothing more than a womanizer who doesn't take anything seriously."

"And _you_ are an annoying little know-it-all suck up," Blaise countered with a sneer.

"I am determined to accomplish _great_ things," Hermione answered. "But you've just proved my point. We don't like each other at all," she said stiffly. This was by far the worst date she had ever been on and she wanted nothing more than for it to be over. She turned to look at the ticking grandfather clock in the corner.

"Fine, mother asked me to court you. To at least _try_. I promised her that though we don't get along,I would ask anyway," he explained. "Draco is my good friend, and mother thought it would be a good way to join our families." He didn't shy away from eye contact when he said this, even though he knew it was likely to hurt her feelings.

She rolled her eyes. "Ever the social climber, Zabini," she said with a smirk. "Can we just be done with this little song and dance then? I think if you try hard enough, you might still find a witch dumb enough who you can drag back to your lair with you."

Blaise laughed when her intended insult didn't quite land as expected. "Yes, of course, Hermione," he agreed before giving her a look. "I can't believe we made it this far without hexing one another. Maybe you aren't so terrible after all."

"Don't get any ideas, Blaise," she said, standing up from the table and making her way to the door. From there, they parted ways - Blaise appeared to be headed to the Three Broomsticks. On the other hand, Hermione was headed to pursue the shelves of the rare books collection at the bookshop around the corner from the Hog's Head. She had her mind on studying the history of centaurs in Scotland.

* * *

Later that night, Hermione was snuggled up on one of the big leather couches in the Slytherin common room, her fingers reverently caressing the pages of her book as she turned them. She was blissfully alone, most of her classmates still out on their dates in Hogsmeade.

It was amazing how much you could find out about a subject if you just knew where to look for things. For example, the band of centaurs that lived in the Yair Forest had some very fascinating traditions surrounding the new moon. But Hermione was specifically interested in the band of centaurs that inhabited the Forbidden Forest.

Her solitude didn't last long. Draco came bursting through the portrait, pink in the cheeks. "What are you doing holed up in here and why is Blaise still out with Mandy Brocklehurst?" he demanded.

Hermione smirked. "So he _did_ find a witch," she said, thinking that was really typical of Blaise. She closed her book and placed it on her lap. "Draco, Blaise and I talked and decided to end the farce of our courtship because...face it, we just don't mesh well."

"He ended-" he cut himself off, opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to yell and argue some more before deciding that it wasn't worth it to go toe to toe with his sister. Instead, he sat next to her on the couch. "What are you doing here then?"

"Reading about centaurs," she said, sounding suitably nonchalant. "Listen, Draco, we are going to be taking a little trip tomorrow. Headmaster Dumbledore thinks that we are visiting father, but really, I need to go meet with some people on behalf of the Dark Lord."

Draco scowled at the idea of Hermione acting as a go-between for the Dark Lord. He didn't relish the idea of her being given more opportunity and responsibility than him. "Why can't I go with you to the meeting?" he asked petulantly. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

Hermione didn't feel sorry for him. He wasn't devoting himself to the task the Dark Lord had given him, not like she had been. "Maybe if you'd made any progress on your task, you would be given other responsibilities," she replied haughtily, crossing her arms across her chest. She thought of her own progress repairing the cabinet in her library; the Dark Lord had been very pleased to hear how it was going.

"Well, I am going to bed," she said, standing up from her spot. "We are meeting the Headmaster first thing in the morning and I, for one, would like to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the questioning that will no doubt take place," she announced. "I suggest that you do the same." With that, she hauled her book up with her to the sanctuary of the girls' dorms. The rest of her roommates were still out, soit was blissfully quiet for once. Hermione fell asleep quickly, with dreams of dark hair and dark eyes filling her mind.

* * *

Severus Snape was pacing so much on the carpet in front of his fireplace that he was certain it would be dull and threadbare soon. However, the predicament that he'd landed himself in was perplexing and ambiguous and he wasn't sure what he should do. He'd been playing both sides too long...

The Dark Lord had asked him to accompany Hermione Malfoy on a diplomatic meeting with the centaurs. Tensions had been rising since the first war between wizards and magical beasts, and the Forbidden Forest was one such friction point. Voldemort believed that they could be convinced to join his cause. Severus knew that if there was anyone who could convince them to pick a side, it would be Hermione.

He had been instructed to tell Dumbledore that he was taking the Malfoys to Azkaban, acting as a school escort so they could visit their father. And Dumbledore had instructed him to be as helpful to the Dark Lord as possible, so as not to arouse any suspicions of his true loyalty.

So, Severus wrestled with the idea of telling Dumbledore the truth or the approved lie. Normally he would tell Albus everything, but there was something about the faith Hermione had in the Dark Lord that gave him pause. She was nearly as fanatic as Bellatrix since her father was taken to Azkaban, but more controlled, more effective. All Albus had done was radicalize her.

He thought about Lily and her son, the son that he swore to protect since he could not protect her. He had loved Lily since he was a boy and had never stopped, but it was hard for him to look at Harry Potter and see anyone but the wizard who'd bullied him horribly during his school years. What would Lily think if she could see him now? Would she understand his support of Hermione - a witch so much like her in intelligence? No, he did not think Lily would understand why his commitments were wavering in a dangerous direction.

A house-elf popped into his room unannounced, startling him from his treasonous thoughts. "Good evening, Professor Snape," the poor little creature said. "Headmaster Dumbledore has need of you."

Severus looked down at the creature. "Yes, I was expecting his call, Dobby. Thank you," he said, dismissing the house-elf from his sight. He gave a great sigh and started the long walk to the Headmaster's office. He mentally debated what action to take, which master to serve. This time, it did not feel as though he was choosing between Dark magic and Light magic. It didn't even feel like he was choosing between Voldemort and Dumbledore. He was choosing between his past love for Lily and the bright future that Hermione's vision represented.

Standing in front of the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office, Severus took a moment to mentally fortify himself. Once he was sure that his Occlumency shields were in place, he walked up the spiral staircase to see Albus.

* * *

Hermione and Draco sat in Headmaster Dumbledore's office the following morning, accompanied by Professor Snape. "So you will return to Malfoy Manor tonight and spend tomorrow at Azkaban visiting your father. You will return no later than Sunday afternoon. Is that correct?" Dumbledore asked the siblings, looking at them suspiciously over his half-moon lenses.

"That is correct, Headmaster," Draco responded dully.

"And Professor Snape is to remain with you at all times," Dumbledore added sharply.

"Oh, yes, Mother is very happy to host him," Hermione said with a smile.

Severus cleared his throat. "Narcissa has been kind enough to offer me a guest room at Malfoy Manor," he explained, hoping he sounded bored and not guilty. "I will accompany them to Azkaban for their visitation with Lucius."

"You realize that this is highly unusual. We normally do not allow students to leave school except for bereavement purposes," he said with a sniff, clearly disapproving of the situation. "However, seeing as your father is incarcerated and you are allowed only one visit per term, we have made this exception for you. Please be on your best behavior; you continue to represent the school."

Hermione gave him a saccharine sweet smile, hiding her derision of the old man behind it. As _if_ anything a Malfoy did could reflect negatively on Hogwarts. "Oh, we will be, Headmaster, just like we always are," she told him, straining to appear sincere. "We wouldn't want to harm the reputation of the school. Unlike some _other_ students who have left school grounds without permission."

Dumbledore did not look convinced, but he was clearly annoyed that she had taken a jab at his little protege, Potter.

Professor Snape must have sensed the animosity growing. "We'll get going now, then," he said, ushering the two siblings towards the fireplace. He took a pinch of Floo powder before offering Hermione and Draco the pot to do the same. "Goodbye, Headmaster. See you on Sunday," he said before throwing the powder into the flames.

"Malfoy Manor!"

Their mother was waiting in the parlor room when they came through. "Oh, Draco! Hermione! I've missed you so much!" she said, wrapping each of her children in a warm, tight hug. "Has it really only been two months since you left me?"

Hermione hugged her mother in earnest. "Mother, I've missed you," she said, instantly seeing that she looked much thinner than when they'd last seen her. Hermione would have to talk to the house-elves about looking after her.

Draco begrudgingly kissed her on the cheek. "Mother."

"Severus, how good of you to bring them to me. I hope that you brought your appetite for dinner. An honored guest will be joining us tonight," she said, her face flashing in concern for a moment.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "The Dark Lord?" she asked, her voice catching in her throat.

"Yes, the Dark Lord wishes to speak with you both," Narcissa answered, concern for her children evident on her face. "It is important that everything goes perfectly. We cannot afford to make any missteps, not after what happened with your father."

"Of course, Mother," Draco agreed, though he'd paled considerably. He was taking the warning to heart.

"Well, go on and get changed out of your uniforms," she said, putting a fake smile on her face. "Severus, I'll show you to your room."

Hermione hurried to her room, wanting to make sure that she looked her best for dinner with the Dark Lord. Eventually, she settled on a black cocktail dress that was simple yet elegant. The velvet clung to her curves, but the length remained modest. She hoped that the Dark Lord would see her as the young woman she was and not just a silly school girl playing dress up.

She was sitting at her vanity, still trying to decide if she should wear her pearl earrings when she heard a knock at her door. After calling for them to enter, Hermione smiled when she saw her mother.

"You look lovely, Hermione," she said, taking the brush from Hermione's vanity and brushing her daughter's hair. The frizz that had plagued her as a child had been corrected at this point with special potions, leaving her with pretty, toffee-colored waves.

Hermione smiled at her mother in the mirror before she grew a bit discontented. "Mother? Have you spoken to Mrs. Pucey lately?" she asked timidly.

Narcissa pondered the question for a moment. "No, now that I think on it, I haven't spoken with her since the beginning of summer," she said with a frown. "Why do you ask, darling?"

"Well, it's just that..." Hermione trailed off, biting her lower lip. She was nervous to make her intentions known. Typically, a pureblood girl should not openly state a preference for any wizard. "Adrian and I had gone on several dates last year, and I was just wondering if he'd decided that he wished to court me _formally_." It hurt to voice her concern that a wizard she liked very much may not desire the same things from her as she did from him.

"I can arrange to have tea with her sometime this month and inquire after Adrian," her mother soothed, setting down the brush. "I know it must be hard having your father in Azkaban, when he should be securing a match for you."

"Draco seems to have taken up the mantle," Hermione said with a frown. "He's already made me go on one date with Blaise Zabini, even though I told him we simply weren't suited to one another."

"Mrs. Zabini did ask me about you," she confessed, charming her daughter's long hair into a tasteful updo. "How did it go?"

"He must have known that our date was doomed from the start. He took me to Madam Puddifoot's," Hermione answered, sharing a look with her mother in the mirror. "We agreed to end our short courtship amicably. Draco was very disappointed."

"I'm sure he was," her mother said with a wry smile. "I am glad you and Blaise were able to work it out. I will speak to Draco about it."

"I don't mind him taking an interest in my future. I know he's trying his best, but...I don't want to end up in a loveless marriage. I want what you and father have," she said shyly. "He should at least listen to me and take my opinions into consideration."

"He can be stubborn but he means well. He just needs a little guidance," the blonde witch answered. "Shall we go down to dinner? We don't want to keep our guest waiting."

"Certainly not," Hermione agreed, taking her mother's arm. She shoved aside all thoughts of courtship and marriage, intent on focusing on impressing the Dark Lord now.


	6. Chapter 6

When Hermione entered the dining room, she felt her breath leave her the moment her eyes settled on the Dark Lord. She had completely forgotten how handsome the wizard was. His dark eyes lit up when he saw her, making a zing of excitement race up her spine.

Hermione took a deep breath and schooled her features. Malfoys always kept impeccable control over their emotions, but more importantly, she didn't want to act like her Aunt Bellatrix, who was always desperate for the Dark Lord's attention. "Good evening, my Lord," she said before giving him a demure curtsey.

Voldemort gestured for Hermione to take the open seat to his left, to her utter surprise. She was pleased to be seated directly across from Professor Snape, with her brother at her other side. Her mother took her place at the other head of the table, as her right as hostess.

"What news do you have for me, regarding your mission?" the Dark Lord asked her.

She was pleased to give him an update, quite confident that she'd crafted a very well-thought-out plan. "Tomorrow morning, Professor Snape will accompany Draco and me to Azkaban to visit father. That is what Dumbledore thinks the sole purpose of our visit is," Hermione explained.

"I'm sure Lucius will be happy to have you visit," he said with a hint of compassion.

"Yes," she agreed. She missed her father dearly. "After we return, Draco will remain at the Manor while Professor Snape accompanies me to the Forbidden Forest for a meeting with the centaurs."

"Were the centaurs receptive to your meeting?" the Dark Lord asked, obviously wanting to ensure every detail was perfectly planned.

"I sent a missive in the traditional manner of the centaurs and they responded in the affirmative by placing a butchered rabbit in the v of a tree branch," Hermione said, eager to share what she'd learned about centaur culture in her research. She was very proud of the way she had carefully navigated the tricky etiquette. "That is their way, and my research suggests that it is a good sign."

Her mother made a noise of concern, and Hermione noted she looked paler than usual. "It sounds rather dangerous," she fretted. "Protect my daughter, won't you, Severus?"

Hermione was a bit annoyed that her mother didn't think she could handle herself, but she also knew that her concern was only out of love. She'd already been separated from her husband, so Hermione could forgive her the affront.

"Of course, Narcissa," Professor Snape answered smoothly. "I wouldn't dream of letting anything happen to her."

The Dark Lord quickly got the discussions back on track. "And the Vanishing Cabinet?" he urged.

Hermione blushed. "Yes, I think I've _finally_ found the spell, but I've yet to master it," she revealed, embarrassed with how long it was taking her. She hated admitting that she wasn't able to get something right even after so much practice. It was the same with broom flying. "I am having some trouble producing the correct wand movement."

"Perhaps I can help you after dinner?" he asked, before giving a deferential look to her mother, waiting for her permission.

Her mother looked uneasy at the amount of attention the Dark Lord was giving her daughter, but she quickly smoothed over her face with a smile. "Why, yes. Of course. So long as she has a chaperone with her," she answered.

Hermione felt her flush deepen, and the Dark Lord raised an eyebrow. Hermione couldn't believe that her mother would even suggest something like that - as if the Dark Lord had any time for romantic pursuits and even if he did, she was sure it wouldn't be with _her_ of all people.

Voldemort gave her mother a charming smile. "Of course, Narcissa," he agreed. "I assumed that Severus and Draco would be joining us."

The smile that her mother gave him was tight and forced. Hermione wondered if she was missing having her father there to navigate these social situations. She was sure it must be hard to make decisions regarding Hermione's future without her father's approval. Hermione just wished that her mother could see all the work she was doing to restore the Malfoy name. Surely the Dark Lord taking a special interest could only be a good thing?

Dessert was a perfectly prepared creme brulee. Her mother used the time to interrogate Draco. "Draco, I heard about your failed attempt at matching Hermione with Blaise Zabini," she said with narrowed eyes.

Professor Snape seemed to choke on his dessert for a second, shocked at the news. He coughed a few times before he was finally able to wheeze out a question. "Whose appalling idea was that?"

It was Draco's turn to blush. "I thought Blaise would make a good match for Hermione because he has no tolerance for her bossiness," he said, dejected.

"Yes, and he has no tolerance for monogamy or public spaces either!" Professor Snape spat back, sounded almost a bit haunted by some previous encounter with Blaise.

This sentiment seemed to intrigue Voldemort. He looked at Professor Snape curiously, but Hermione could not imagine that the Dark Lord would have time for petty gossip about a misbehaving student. Perhaps this would be a mark against Blaise should he want to join the Death Eaters in the future?

"Well Draco, you don't need to worry yourself about it anymore. I will handle the arrangements for Hermione's betrothal," her mother said with finality, clearly considering the situation handled.

Draco ignored his mother's tone. "With father _away_ indefinitely, it falls on my shoulders as head of this family to secure a good marriage contract for Hermione!" he argued back.

"That reminds me," her mother said with the barest hint of a smirk. "I'll need to start arranging for your own marriage as well."

Having realized his mistake, Draco immediately quieted. "I'm sorry mother," he said bitterly, apologizing for speaking out of turn. His head hung down to look at his half-finished dessert. "I'll consult with you from now on."

The awkward silence that followed the squabble was eventually broken by Hermione. "Well, shall we retire to the library to practice my wandwork?" she asked eagerly, ready to master the spell she'd worked on for so long, only to blush when she realized the unintentional innuendo she'd made.

Narcissa stood and walked the group to the study before bidding them goodnight, leaving Hermione in Draco's care. Hermione sensed that her mother was uneasy about her and Draco being left alone with the Dark Lord but she wasn't sure why. In any case, they would be perfectly safe with Professor Snape in the room, seeing as he was one of the Malfoys' oldest and dearest friends.

Voldemort selected a spot on the settee next to the fireplace. "Tell me about the spell," he requested, resting his arm against the arm of the settee.

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat, taken aback by how attractive she found him in that moment. Of course, she'd always known he was a handsome man, but this was like seeing him in a new light.

She heard him clear his throat and jumped into action, realizing that she'd paused for too long. "Well, it's a variation of several charms, including a weaving charm typically used on clothing, a mending charm used for mending flesh, and a growth charm used in the garden," Hermione explained, pleased to show off a bit. "The incantation is _silva intexo armarium rescarcio_."

Hermione looked around at her audience: Professor Snape was pretending to peruse the books on the shelves, but she could tell he was listening from the slight tilt of his head; Draco was sitting next to her, trying to seem engaged but failing.

The Dark Lord conjured a small wooden box, about the size of a jewelry box. "Try the spell on this, so I can watch your movement," he instructed.

She stood and smoothed her dress. Clearing her throat, Hermione raised her wand before moving it through the complex motions of the spell while saying the incantation clearly and loudly. To her frustration, nothing happened. She attempted it again, only to see that the box remained unchanged.

Professor Snape shut the book he'd been reading and turned to face her. "Your downward flick is too zestful and should occur precisely on the emphasized syllable of _intexo_ ," he commented.

Hermione bit her lower lip and nodded. Despite his rather brusque teaching style, she knew that Professor Snape just wanted to help. She tried again, yet was still unable to produce even a meager spark. Disappointed, she could feel tears beginning to form in her eyes and a hard lump in her throat. She was so used to excelling at everything she tried, but no matter how hard she practiced this spell, she was completely unable to master it!

She bit her tongue until she tasted blood - anything she could do to stop herself from crying in front of the Dark Lord. She couldn't believe how weak she must seem to him.

The Dark Lord stood up gracefully (as he did everything) and moved to stand behind her. With his body pressed flush against her back, Hermione felt her breath leave her. She felt completely in tune with him as he placed his hand around hers. The whole room had gone silent, save for the crackling of the fireplace, and Hermione could nearly forget that this wasn't some stolen, private moment.

When he finally spoke, his breath tickled her neck and ear, threatening to send shivers up and down her spine. "We will try just the motion first," he said. His arm began to move, guiding her hand and wand through the motions effortlessly. They repeated it several times, until she was the one guiding him. "And now the incantation," he whispered.

Hermione cleared her throat and _tried_ to focus on the wooden box and not the man still pressed tightly against her. " _Silva intexo armarium resarcio!"_ she said clearly, letting the Dark Lord guide her hand through the motions. To her glee, Hermione watched as a series of green sparks left the tip of her want and surrounded the box.

"Excellent job, Hermione," he praised her, pleased that she was able to accomplish quite a complex spell.

Hermione preened under his attentions and was barely able to hold herself back from hugging him in delight. Even she knew that that was too familiar.

"Now, I think that you and Draco should go to bed," he said with an indulgent grin. "You have a big day tomorrow, seeing your father and meeting with the centaurs. It is paramount that everything goes perfectly."

"Of course, my Lord," Hermione agreed. "Thank you so much for helping me with the spell. Goodnight, and good night to you, too, Professor Snape."

Draco stood from the couch, obviously annoyed at being sent to bed, but he didn't say anything. He offered Hermione his arm before wishing the two men goodnight and leading Hermione up to bed.

As they were leaving the room, Hermione heard the Dark Lord ask Professor Snape about Adrian Pucey.

"Oh, they are talking about Adrian," Hermione said, biting her lip. "I hope Professor Snape doesn't say anything poor about him."

"Why would he?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes.

"Because you know that he wasn't always the most focused of students when it came to Potions," Hermione said.

"I don't know why the Dark Lord would care if Adrian applied himself in Potions," Draco said with a snort.

"It's just...the Dark Lord has obviously taken a special interest in me," Hermione said, looking at her brother. "He probably wants to ensure that I am married to someone who is going to allow me to flourish. If he thinks Adrian is a slacker, then maybe he won't approve of the match."

Draco made a noise. "The Dark Lord shouldn't even be weighing in on who you marry," he argued hotly. "It's a family matter. So any interference would be uncalled for."

Hermione remained silent as they neared her room. She knew that Draco was technically correct, but with her father in Azkaban and with her potential...surely the Dark Lord couldn't be blamed for worrying about who she would end up with?

"And, I think you should be careful around the Dark Lord," Draco added when they finally stopped outside of her door. "Yes, you are favored right now, but you don't want to chance making him unhappy. Remember, he was quite furious with father for making one tiny little mistake. The same could happen to you if you aren't careful."

She didn't have anything to respond with. It was clear that Draco was simply jealous of the praise she was getting. Maybe if he applied himself more to his given tasks, he could be seen as favorably as she was.

Annoyed with her brother for ruining her good mood, Hermione quickly got ready for bed. Once she was tucked in, she found sleep terribly elusive. Her mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts and nerves, and she wanted the next day to go perfectly. When the sun finally came up, she honestly wasn't sure if she had slept a single minute.

She moved through the morning filled with a sense of dread. Hermione remained taciturn throughout breakfast and all the way to Azkaban. Draco held her hand when they took the tiny boat across the strait that separated the prison from the mainland, with their dour professor with them. It seemed that as soon as she caught sight of the giant stone building, she had been overcome by a cold chill that sank into her bones.

The professor left them on their own to wait for their father in the tiny, dingy stone room for visitors. There was a table, three chairs, and nothing else. Their father's arrival was heralded by a dementor, which remained just outside the room the whole time. Even though it was well trained to not actively attack them, it seemed like all their positive emotions were sucked away by its presence nonetheless.

When their father entered the room, Hermione nearly didn't recognize him. She jumped up from her seat and guided him to his own, after a tight hug. He was weak, and leaned on her during the short walk. Hermione could feel just how much weight he had lost in just a few months. Sitting in his chair, Lucius Malfoy was hunched over, and looked much older than his forty years.

Hermione felt tears come to her eyes. "Father, what have they done to you?" she lamented. "Your beautiful hair..."

Lucius Malfoy's once beautiful silver blond hair was now ratted and dirty. His jaw was scruffy with the beginnings of a beard. He did not look like the noble man he was. "Don't you worry about me, darling," he said, taking her hand in his. "How is your mother?"

Hermione was unable to speak, but Draco finally found his voice. "Mother is fine but lonely. She has been keeping busy with friends and remains loyal," he volunteered.

Their father nodded and smiled, though it looked more like a grimace. "And your school work?" he asked.

"Hermione and I are at the top of all our classes," Draco explained. "We were invited to join the Slug Club."

Their father seemed even more pleased to hear this. He patted the top of Hermione's hand. "Good, good," he encouraged them. "You must make the Malfoy family proud. And feared."

Hermione sniffled, and then knew that she would do anything to live up to her father's request. "Papa, don't worry, we are going to get you out of here. I don't care how many appeals it takes - I promise you!" she said fervently. If Lucius Malfoy could be strong in this horrid situation, Hermione knew that she could complete her tasks.


	7. Chapter 7

Before the sun was even breaking the horizon the next morning, Hermione met Professor Snape on the grounds of the manor. The sky was an inky blue, fading to light on the edges. Her professor was wearing his traditional black frock coat, while Hermione had opted for an outfit more traditionally accepted by the centaurs. The dress was modest, but it was made out of buckskin. She covered her shoulders with a dark green cloak, the hood up to protect her from the chilly weather.

"Shall we?" she asked the professor, her cheerful tone belying her nerves.

Professor Snape held out his arm to her so that they could Side-Along Apparate just outside of the Hogwarts grounds. With a quiet pop, the pair was standing in front of the dense, menacing forest.

Hermione thanked her professor before leading the way into the tangle of branches. As soon as they entered the forest and passed the first level of foliage, it grew darker.

"Are you not worried about seeing Firenze?" Professor Snape asked about the Hogwarts Divinations professor and centaur.

She shook her head. "No," she said with a smirk. "He has been exiled by the rest of the colony for helping the Headmaster and for accepting the post at Hogwarts."

Professor Snape did not share her gleeful mood at that news. Instead, he made a concerned noise, like a clucking hen. "But then, if they exiled FIrenze for helping wizards, what makes you think that they will accept _your_ terms?" he asked, somewhat concerned because of the temperamental nature of the creatures.

Hermione pushed down the feeling of annoyance that surged at hearing Professor Snape thought she hadn't already considered that. "Well, I am playing the game by their rules right now. I think that as long as I respect their customs, they will hear me out," Hermione said smartly. "If they will agree to help is an entirely different question, but I have confidence." She had to project that confidence, even if she wasn't entirely sure she could pull it off.

They walked in silence for what seemed like hours. It was eerie the way that there seemed to be no noise this deep in the forest - not even chirping birds or movement from other creatures. It was as if they were completely alone, but Hermione was not foolish enough to believe that.

Eventually, they came upon a hollow, still filled with an early morning fog. It was nearly impossible to see, but Hermione could hear the beating of hooves in the distance. She stopped. "We will meet them here," she informed her professor.

Before long, they were joined by three centaurs bounding into the hollow, circling around them several times before coming to a stop in front of them. The largest one, with a shock of red hair, spoke first. "Is this some kind of trick, witch? We want no part in Hogwarts schemes," he sneered, gesturing to Snape.

"No tricks, I promise you," Hermione said, holding her hands up in surrender. "In order to leave the Hogwarts grounds this weekend, Dumbledore insisted that I bring a chaperone with me. But you don't need to worry. He is one of us. Show them your Mark, Professor," she ordered.

It was clear that Professor Snape was quite reluctant to show his Mark, after years of being conditioned to hide it. However, the authoritative way that she spoke left no room for argument. He pushed up his sleeve to show off the writhing tattoo on his pale skin to the three large beasts.

"And where is your Mark, girl?" the wild, black-haired centaur inquired.

Immediately, Hermione could feel the heat rush to her cheeks at being called out and hoped that they couldn't see. This was such a sore spot for her because she wanted nothing more than to wear the Dark Mark - to prove her loyalty and strength. However, the Dark Lord hadn't budged when she'd asked. "I am still at school and the Dark Lord does not want to jeopardize my learning. Unfortunately, Hogwarts doesn't tolerate our kind of magic," she explained.

The black-haired centaur snorted in doubt, his arms crossed over his chest while his tail swished behind him.

"You must forgive Bane," the red-haired centaur said. He was obviously the leader of the trio. "I'm afraid he doesn't care for wizards at all. I am Ronan and this is Magorian." He gestured to the brown-haired centaur, who didn't speak but kept a firm gaze on her and Professor Snape.

Hermione nodded in deference. "I am Hermione Malfoy, and this is Professor Severus Snape, but you already knew that," she said with a smile, projecting confidence. It appeared that Ronan was the only one willing to consider her offer, whereas the other two remained skeptical.

She knew that they had good reason to not trust wizards, but she really believed that the Dark Lord could give them a better path forward in magical society. "I am here to propose an alliance of sorts between the Dark Lord and your colony."

Before she could talk further, Bane stepped forward. "And why would we want anything to do with _you_ , witch?" he demanded.

Hermione knew he meant the word as a curse, but she didn't take it that way. "Unlike the people at Hogwarts who want you to 'integrate' into Wizarding society, we respect your traditions and customs. Everyone has their place in magical society, but we do not wish to change you - to mold you to our expectations. We want to strengthen your place in magical society," she explained.

"What you mean is you want all other creatures beneath you so-called 'pureblood' wizards," Bane accused, his temper flaring once again, while he paced back and forth.

Ronan could see that the meeting was deteriorating. "I think it's best if you leave," he said.

"We will leave," Hermione agreed. "But just think of what the future could be if Dumbledore gets his way. Do you really want to be _forced_ to share your knowledge of the stars with masses of stupid Mudbloods that don't even fully understand magic? Like Firenze does?" she pressed.

Magorian roared and notched his bow, though he refrained from aiming it at her. "OUT!" he shouted.

Hermione felt her heart beat so fast that she thought it might explode out of her chest. She wanted nothing more than to turn and run away from the clearing as fast as she could, but she knew she needed to remain in control of the situation. "You know how to contact me," she told the trio regretfully, knowing that discussions were over for now. She prayed that her voice didn't waiver, betraying the icy grasp of fear she felt.

Then, she turned and nodded to Professor Snape before walking away quickly. _Walk, don't run,_ she chanted to herself, even once they were out of the forest. Out of the dark cover of the Forbidden Forest and in the bright sparkling sunshine, Hermione's heart began to slow. Her mind continued to race.

She felt like she had failed once again. She wasn't ready to go back to the Manor yet...off to report another failure to the Dark Lord. But she took her professor's outstretched arm nonetheless. The pale man had nothing to say about what had gone wrong, but he seemed paler than usual - stricken.

Hermione felt the pull of Apparition, and in the next moment she was standing in her family's parlor, staring into the smiling face of Lord Voldemort. She tried to smile at him, but she found her stomach still twisting with nerves. Professor Snape's arm was still under her hand, but it didn't bring her the comfort she had expected it would. He wouldn't be able to protect her now.

The Dark Lord crossed the distance between them and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Leave us, Severus," he insisted.

Hermione felt instantly more alone the second he broke away from her, even with Voldemort's heavy hands on her shoulders.

"How did the meeting with the centaurs go?" he asked once they were alone.

She faltered. "It went...well, my Lord. They are _receptive_ , but not quite ready to join our cause," she hedged, hoping that he wouldn't see the truth through her pretty words. "I've planted the seed of doubt in their minds."

His jovial mood was gone then. "Let me see," he commanded, though he didn't wait for her to react before casting a silent _Legilimens_. Staring into his eyes, Hermione was surprised by how red they looked when he was this close. They had no depth, no warmth to speak of.

The penetration of her mind was smooth and painless; it was a gentle caress as he peeled back her memories of the day, all of them colored with emotion. He was a true master of his craft, not straying from his purpose, not seeking out any other memories but the one he desired most.

Hermione felt herself exploring the connection between their minds, curious. Suddenly, Hermione found herself in what appeared to be a Muggle house. There was an older man who looked so much like the Dark Lord, yet different somehow. He appeared more plain, like a Muggle. He didn't have the spark of magic that Voldemort had, no dark, seductive aura. Hermione saw herself raising her wand. Only, it wasn't _her_ wand - it was the Dark Lord's. A shot of green light hit the man square in the chest, leaving him dead with a look of pure terror on his face.

She could feel someone else's emotions welling up in her chest. Instead of feeling sickened, horrified at the murder she'd just witnessed, she only felt joy at seeing the other man dead.

 _Then_ she felt the rage.

Hermione was quickly ripped out of the memory and her pleasant connection to Voldemort was severed as quickly as it had started. It wasn't the smooth seduction that he had used to enter her mind, but a painful, savage separation.

The Dark Lord's eyes were glowing red and he seemed angry. Not angry - he was _furious_. She was still reeling from the shock she felt from what she'd seen and the emotions she'd experienced in the memory. But he didn't talk about that.

"You call that...receptive?" he asked through gritted teeth, his grip tightening on her shoulders, until it was painful. "They nearly killed you."

"I've planted the seed of doubt, my Lord," she repeated, trying to sound confident.

"You better hope that they turn our way soon, Hermione. I had such high hopes for you. I really thought that you were going to be something...special," he sneered at her. "Something more than just a failure like your father."

"I'm sorry, my Lord," she said, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "I'll try harder, I promise."

"I just don't want anything else to happen to the noble House of Malfoy, and I expected you to be the insurance of the safety of your family," he said, letting his hands drop from her shoulders. "I'd hate for anything to happen to your mother or Draco. So think about that and go."

Hermione left the room quickly, feeling the tears falling down her cheeks already. _Malfoys don't cry_ , she reminded herself.

Professor Snape was waiting outside the door, but she pushed past him. She couldn't face _anyone_ while she was so weak. She burst into her room and threw herself on the plush bed. She sobbed into the multitude of soft pillows, wondering how she could be so _stupid_. She had been overly confident and prideful, and she had failed miserably. She couldn't imagine anything worse than _disappointing_ the Dark Lord. Of putting her family in jeopardy.

Hermione sat up and furiously wiped her cheeks. Why couldn't she be more like Draco or her father? They always had an iron control on their emotions. She hadn't even seen her mother cry before her father was taken to Azkaban. Why did the tears come so easily for her? Why was she so different from the rest of her family?

* * *

Harry Potter was sitting in the Great Hall with his best friends, Ron and Ginny. Professor Snape was noticeably absent from the Head Table. The Malfoys were missing from the Slytherin table, too. They'd been gone all weekend, and Harry couldn't feel anything but suspicion. He tried to make eye contact with Dumbledore, but the old man wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ginny asked, placing her hand on his arm. "You haven't touched your food."

"Don't you find it odd that the Malfoys _and_ Snape are gone?" he asked, spitting out their names with equal malice.

Ron answered without bothering to swallow the food in his mouth. "I heard that they were visiting their Death Eater daddy. Snape offered to be their chaperone," he shared. "He was probably all too happy to see Malfoy in Azkaban."

"Doesn't that sound a little bit convenient?" Harry asked, convinced that the Malfoy siblings were on their way to becoming Death Eaters, if they weren't already. "I bet they just went to get some Dark Marks of their own. Figures that Snape is with them - he's probably the one sponsoring them!"

"I don't think Dumbledore would have let Snape take them if that's what he thought Snape's purpose was," Ginny countered, trying to be logical. "Don't you trust Dumbledore, Harry?"

Harry scowled. "Of course I do, I just...sometimes I don't think he knows what the Malfoys are capable of," he said, stabbing his fork into his mashed potatoes. "They are up to something, and I am going to find out what," he vowed.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione's transformation of the Room of Requirement into her little library had quickly become a welcome refuge while she was at Hogwarts. While the fire crackled bright and cheery in the corner, Hermione could admit that it did not match her mood. Standing, she walked over to look out the window to watch the heavy, wet snow swirl in the wind. She felt much more like the outdoors, she reflected with a frown.

Even though she was only growing more miserable with her own thoughts, she didn't want to return to her dorm for the night. The dungeons were always drafty, but when there was a blizzard raging outside, the wind seemed to penetrate every crack in the stone to cradle her with its icy fingers.

She sighed, intent on returning to her studies. Walking back to the settee, she collapsed into the cushions and pulled her large Ancient Runes book into her lap. With all the excitement in her life lately, she had fallen somewhat behind on her revision schedule. Even though she was still weeks ahead of the rest of her class, she needed it to remain that way.

Despite her love of learning, Hermione simply couldn't focus. Once again, she let her mind drift to the Dark Lord. He hadn't spoken to her in weeks, not since she'd had her disastrous meeting with the centaurs. Hermione still felt so stupid about messing that up and even stupider for trying to lie to the Dark Lord. Voldemort had been absolutely furious - she had never seen his emotions flip like that before.

While he'd previously taken a keen interest in her education, he'd now left all of her weekly Dark Arts lessons to the Lestranges via Floo. Hermione didn't mind her Uncle Rodolphus, but his brother Rabastan had an unsettling gaze. And she was more sure than ever that her Aunt Bellatrix was positively mad, only endeavoring to teach her the darkest of the Dark Arts. Her Aunt's methods of teaching were so different from the Dark Lord's, who seemed to focus on their practicality and academic interest, rather than just wanting to hurt someone else because you could.

Hermione had gotten so used to his nurturing, charming self. The Dark Lord had made her feel special, more important than anyone else, and she'd love that. She let her mind drift to the memory of his arm wrapped around her body as he showed her the correct wand movements to repair the Vanishing Cabinet. Her eyes slipped closed as she remembered the feel of his hand brushing against hers. It'd felt sensual and deliberate. He had pressed his body against the curve of her back until there was no space between them.

She would be lying if she said that the memory hadn't kept her up many a night, full of confusing emotions. It hadn't taken a long time for her to realize that it was desire and a longing to know what might have happened had she tilted her head to gaze into his eyes or pushed back against him. It sent her heart racing.

But it left Hermione feeling so upset with herself because he was normally so amiable and enthralling. She must have really disappointed him for him to react the way that he had. And if there was anything that could worm its way into Hermione's brain and make her agonize over it, it was failing to surpass expectations.

Hermione was also left feeling unsettled by the memory she'd seen in the Dark Lord's mind.

Shaking her head to drive that particular thought away, Hermione let her mind wander to Draco. She knew that the task the Dark Lord had assigned him was to kill Dumbledore, even if he hadn't discussed it with her. Snape, worried about her brother, had been the one to tell her, suggesting that he might be able to take care of it for Draco. Her professor had been particularly insistent, and Hermione had lashed out at him in stress. Malfoys didn't need any help, and she was going to prove it to anyone and everyone who thought otherwise.

But Draco had been bumbling his way in his attempts to kill the Headmaster. His first attempt with a cursed necklace had nearly killed Katie Bell - that nosy little Gryffindor. His second attempt with a poisoned bottle of mead was slightly more inspired, but it was intercepted by a greedy Weasley. And it hadn't even killed him! The rest of the castle hadn't been told, but Phineas Black's portrait had informed Hermione, who told Draco.

On top of all the bad things that were going on in her life, Hermione had recently felt that she was being followed. At first, she'd thought it was just Professor Snape keeping an eye on her, but she was certain it was someone else. It was driving her _mad_ , checking over her shoulder constantly. She'd even added extra wards to her secret library. Whoever was following her did it almost all the time, giving her no peace, and she was afraid the stress was going to get to her.

Knowing that she could no longer hide in her sanctuary, she left the cozy confines of Hermione's Library to return to the frigid embrace of her dormitory.

* * *

Harry was even more convinced that the Malfoys were Death Eaters. He'd been following both Hermione and Draco for over a month now and there were just too many coincidences for them not to be related to Ron's poisoning and Katie Bell's cursing. He'd tried to convince Professor McGonagall, but without proof, she dismissed his accusations.

But Harry didn't need proof to _know_ that it was them behind the attacks.

Hermione Malfoy would frequently disappear off the Marauder's Map for hours at a time, completely eluding him on the map and in person. She was always slinking around the seventh floor and looking over her shoulder. She'd realized someone was following her pretty quickly. Draco was much less aware, but even he'd realized that he was being watched. He frequented the Restricted Section of the library after-hours, but by the time Harry tracked him there, he was gone.

Harry _had_ to figure out what they were doing.

So he found himself trudging silently along the corridor underneath his Invisibility Cloak, following Hermione Malfoy. Although he didn't want to admit it, she had grown into her looks, but they were spoiled by her perpetual look of worry and the permanent frown on her face.

She stopped and looked behind her before ducking into a room. Harry realized belatedly exactly where they were - directly in front of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was. Harry froze at the idea that she might know about the entrance. Although the basilisk was dead and gone, Harry knew that there were still a multitude of Dark artifacts in the Chamber. He followed her in to guard the entrance if necessary.

Hermione was standing at one of the sinks, splashing her face with cold water. Her shoulders shook, as though she were trying to hold back sobs. Harry looked at her reflection in the mirror and saw that she looked exhausted - pale and sickly.

When she saw him, she whirled around. Harry didn't even see her pull her wand before it was aimed at his face. "What are you doing in here, Potter? This is a girls' lavatory!" she demanded.

"I know what you and your brother are up to," he accused. "Draco must have poisoned the mead. Poison is right up his alley. But you hexed Katie, didn't you?

Hermione didn't dignify his accusation with a reply, instead deciding to throw the first curse. Harry blocked it, sending it ricocheting across the bathroom, breaking one of the sinks in the process. Water sprayed everywhere. It was a strong curse, Harry mused distractedly. Before he had time to react, she sent another curse at him, this time hitting his shoulder. Harry hissed and ducked behind a row of stalls. The pain was intense, but it served only to focus him.

The bathroom was flooding quickly, and he could hear the splashing of her feet as she turned the corner, chasing him down. Harry spun and they exchanged curses again, breaking several toilets.

He knew that he had to go on the offensive. Springing out of the stall, he saw that she was trying to flee. Slashing his wand at her retreating form, he called out the first spell that came to mind. " _Sectumsempra_!"

Harry watched in horror as Malfoy fell and red blood bloomed on her white uniform shirt, as if an invisible blade had slashed her. He stood over her, watching her cry, her face quickly losing color. He was mesmerized by the ruby red color seeping into the water, feeling terrible for what he'd done. He hadn't known the spell would do _that_.

He sprang into action when Professor Snape came barreling into the room and immediately knelt over her. Waving his wand over her, he murmured a soft incantation, ignoring Harry in lieu of healing and saving her. But Harry couldn't stand to watch.

He turned and ran from the room.

* * *

Hermione sat tucked in her bed, back propped up by fluffy feather pillows, while Draco sat at her desk, working on his homework. She hated being treated like an invalid who couldn't be trusted on her own, but she was glad she wasn't in the infirmary anymore. Pomfrey was overbearing and the infirmary was too common for a Malfoy. She'd only been released when Professor Snape promised to administer her Blood-Replenishing Potions and essence of dittany personally.

"Do you think I'll be able to return to classes come Monday?" she asked, feeling miserable.

Draco made a little noise of agreement but didn't answer.

Hermione still smarted at the fact that _Harry Potter_ had bested her in a duel. She'd never imagined that he would use such a Dark curse. The pain had been nearly unbearable and had left her feeling so cold.

She snuggled into the down comforter, hoping to extract a bit more warmth to stave off the memory. Professor Snape said the lingering effects would get better once she'd finished her Blood-Replenishing Potions regimen. The curse had also left her with a large cut from shoulder to navel, grazing the top of one of her breasts. Her Head of House couldn't guarantee that the scar would fade, so it served as a permanent visible reminder of just how much she hated Potter. She was utterly embarrassed by her disfigurement. Draco said she was still beautiful, but she'd seen Professor Snape's reaction every time he'd applied the dittany.

Draco threw down his quill and walked over to her with his book. He handed it to her, open to a specific page. Sitting next to her on the bed, he pointed at a particular set of runes. "What's that say?" he questioned.

Hermione instantly recognized the book from the Restricted Section; it _felt_ Dark. She studied the runes on the page, lovingly tracing them over, reading their intent carefully. Her mouth pursed and her eyebrows furrowed together. She looked up at her brother. "This is for a blood ritual. What is it for?" she asked. "We won't cover blood magic in class until next year."

Draco smiled at her. "You aren't the only one who likes to read ahead," he teased with a smile. He looked so much like their father with his perfectly soft blond hair at that moment. How Hermione had wished for hair like his, but instead, she took after the Black sisters. Everyone said she looked like Bellatrix, which Hermione didn't necessarily take as a compliment.

But even Draco's resemblance to her beloved father did not distract her. "Draco, who do you think you are fooling?" she asked. "You hate Ancient Runes."

Before Draco could respond, Hermione's three roommates returned to the dormitory. Pansy, with her pug nose and short bob haircut, immediately took notice of Draco. "Oh, Draco, we missed you at dinner tonight!" she fawned over him.

Hermione and Draco shared a secret smile as Hermione rolled her eyes. "I wanted to make sure my sister had some company. Now that you're here, I'll take my leave," he said, plucking the book out of her hands. "You girls will take good care of my sister, won't you?"

"Of course we will, Draco," Daphne assured him, sitting down on the end of Hermione's bed.

With a nod, Draco left them to their own devices. It would be good to get some girl time, Hermione thought. While she wasn't extremely close with her dormmates, she had been particularly neglectful this year.

"Oh, Hermione, how much longer do you have to be cooped up in here?" Daphne asked. With her pin-straight blonde hair and kind green eyes, she was the most genuine of Hermione's girlfriends.

"Professor Snape thinks I'll be able to return to classes on Monday," Hermione explained. "Has anything terribly exciting happened while I've been imprisoned? What new potion are we working on?"

"That's our Hermione - always so studious!" Millie said with a smile. "I'd relish a vacation from class."

Daphne's eyes flashed in anger. "I still can't believe that Potter did this to you. So awful," she said with a frown. "And to think everyone thinks Slytherins are the ones who don't play fair. What was he doing, barging into the girls' lavatory after you?"

"Well, don't you worry. No one in Ravenclaw will even speak to Potter right now," Millie assured her.

"And even half of Hufflepuff hates him," Pansy added for good measure.

"It's good to hear that he is getting what he deserves. He's been strutting around this school for too many years without fair punishment," Hermione said with a yawn. "I'm sorry girls, I'm so tired. Maybe tomorrow you could help me pick out a dress for Yule? Mother sent me a stack of catalogs."

Daphne agreed enthusiastically before heading over to her own bed. Once on her own, Hermione magicked her drapes shut and turned her bedside lamp on before pulling out _Hogwarts, A History_ to read for the night.


	9. Chapter 9

Staring at herself in the mirror, Hermione sighed at her reflection. She was meant to be getting ready for the Christmas party her mother was hosting, the first since her father had gone to Azkaban.

Hermione was dressed in her gorgeous cloth of gold dress, which stopped just a bit above the knee. Personally, she had thought it was a little ridiculous to be wearing a dress made out of gold, but her mother had insisted, and now, seeing it on, she could agree. It sparkled when she moved and made her hair and skin look radiant. The low-cut back exposed her unblemished skin, but the modest silhouette did little to hide the thing she was most self-conscious about - the reason she was hiding in her room when she should be welcoming party guests.

Even in the dim light, Hermione could see the puckered pink scar visible at the neckline of her bodice. No matter how she arranged her hair, the mark was still glaringly obvious to her.

Hermione was so frustrated that she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. But she wouldn't cry. She was a _Malfoy_ , for Salazar's sake. She took a couple of deep breaths to help her swallow the lump in her throat before it turned into a full-fledged sob.

She was startled when she heard the door creak open. Turning to see who was entering her bedroom, Hermione was surprised to see the Dark Lord. "My Lord!" she greeted him, pleased, and temporarily distracted from her scar. "Mother didn't tell me you would be attending."

It was the first time she'd talked to him since he'd disapproved of her approach with the centaurs. An awkward silence began to build between them.

Eventually, he spoke. "Yes, I had hoped that you would bring Mr. Pucey to meet me. Severus has told me so much about him," he said coolly. "I am curious about a man who could catch the eye of such an intelligent and powerful witch like yourself."

Hermione blushed, pleased to hear that he still thought so highly of her. However, she couldn't deny that it was odd to talk about her sometimes boyfriend with the Dark Lord of all people. "Of course, my Lord," she agreed. "I am sure Adrian will be delighted to have an audience with you."

Before she knew what was happening, the Dark Lord had erased the distance between them. He reached out his hand and touched her, his fingertips finding her scar, just to the right of her sleeve. He traced its length along her clavicle, down to the top of her breast, stopping when it disappeared into her dress.

Hermione felt her breath catch at the sensuous touch on her skin, her skin turning to gooseflesh under his touch. She was afraid to meet his eye, but when she did, she was surprised to see them glowing nearly red in anger.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded.

Hermione looked away from him, biting her lip. A part of her was annoyed that he hadn't cared enough to hear about her little duel with Potter. Didn't he worry about her - a prodigy he wanted to nurture? But a larger part of her was afraid to tell him. Would he think she was weak for being bested?

Before she could choose what to tell him, she felt the silky caress of the Dark Lord entering her mind. It was just as sensual as his fingers had been on her skin. But she couldn't focus on that for long. Instead, she could feel the shame rising when he saw how overwhelmed she was, trying to manage her and her brother's tasks. She didn't want him to see her weak, fighting back her tears at the sink. Her cheeks grew hot when he examined her duel.

Even though she knew it was dangerous, she explored the link between their minds to distract herself. She found a memory of a Halloween night: it was thunderstorming, unusual for that time of year, but it didn't stop the Dark Lord from walking into the little house. He had already killed one man, whose lifeless, glassy eyes stared at him as he strode past and up the stairs. He entered a room and there was a pretty redheaded woman standing over a crib, wand drawn to protect her child. The Dark Lord easily disarmed her and raised his arm to cast the Killing Curse. " _Avada Ked—_ "

This time, she was gently pushed from the memory, sending her back into her room. Immediately, Hermione closed her eyes, trying to push the emotions from her head. She could feel them infecting her. The Dark Lord had been so cold, felt no sympathy whatsoever for an innocent child, even when its mother pleaded for its life! He had only been focused on the necessity of the act, operating on survival instinct. If he wanted to live, the baby had to die.

"We will be talking about this later," the Dark Lord insisted, lips pressed together tightly in a frown. "Please enjoy the party with your friends."

Hermione nodded absently, still reeling from the emotions associated with the memory. While it was clear he wasn't happy with her insolence, he was not as angry as he could have been. It was curious.

When she got to the door, she heard him call out to her again. "Hermione, I promise you this," he said gravely, "Potter will pay for what he has done."

Feeling relief at his words, Hermione gave him a small smile before shutting the door behind her. She made the long walk down to the ballroom in record time.

The party was very lively, even if it had only just started. It seemed like everyone was there: Draco and Blaise were off chasing some French girls from Beauxbatons; Theo had stolen Daphne away for a dance before Hermione could approach her. So instead Hermione resigned herself to standing by the fire and sipping champagne from a glass she'd pilfered from the kitchens. She was sure mother wouldn't approve, but she couldn't really bring herself to care.

Hermione was about to resort to talking to Pansy, of all people, when she spotted Adrian across the room. Waving at him, she sucked in a breath as he started to walk over to her. Her heart was aflutter seeing the older boy who had captured her heart just last year.

When he got to her, he pulled her into a tight hug before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. He looked just as handsome as ever - tall and slim with toffee-colored hair. His tailored robes fit him perfectly and made him look like he oozed success. She almost couldn't believe that he was the same Adrian she knew from Hogwarts.

"Adrian," she said, her voice sultry and teasing. "I've missed you so much. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me."

He rewarded her with a lopsided smile. "I could never forget you, Hermione. I've just been so busy with work lately," he told her.

She somewhat doubted that he was too busy working at the Ministry in the Magical Games Department. It wasn't as prestigious a job as he could have gotten with his NEWT scores, but it was something he loved.

They chatted for a while, with Adrian telling her more about his job and Hermione filling him in on the gossip from Hogwarts. But after they were all caught up, Hermione decided that now was as good a time as ever to introduce Adrian to the Dark Lord.

"Come, there is someone I want you to meet," she whispered conspiratorially. Taking his hand, Hermione led him out of the ballroom and up the stairs to the library.

When they were alone in the hallway, he wrapped an arm around her waist and let his hand rest on her arse, giving it a playful pat. "Hermione, if you wanted some alone time with me, all you had to do was ask," he said, dropping his head to kiss her neck.

Hermione playfully pushed him away, not wanting the Dark Lord's first impression of Adrian to be a lecher. "No, silly, this is serious," she scolded him. Turning out of his grasp, she opened the door to the library and walked in. She stopped in front of the settee that the Dark Lord had chosen.

Pulling Adrian, who seemed to have forgotten how to walk, to stand next to her, she beamed proudly at the man. "Adrian, I'd like to introduce you to Lord Voldemort," she said. "My Lord, may I present Adrian Pucey."

Next to her, Adrian was tense and indifferent. There was no sign of his playful demeanor anymore.

"Hello Mr. Pucey," Voldemort greeted first. "Hermione has told me so much about you."

"I can't say the same," Adrian said tersely.

"I must say, I was curious to meet the wizard who has captured the attention of such a bright young witch," the Dark Lord continued. "You work at the Ministry?"

"Yes, in the Games Department," Adrian answered.

Voldemort stared at Adrian in silence for a few beats. "Well, I wouldn't want to keep you two from enjoying the party any longer. Have a good evening," he dismissed them.

Adrian grabbed her hand forcefully and pulled her towards the exit. He didn't let go of her hand and started marching her away from the library and the party, looking for someplace in particular.

"Where are we going?" Hermione demanded, unable to change course due to his tight grip on her hand.

Finally, they reached a balcony far from the hub of the party. Adrian closed the doors behind them before applying a locking charm and a few Notice-Me-Not Charms. He seemed quite adamant about not being interrupted or overheard.

The balcony was cold and Hermione could feel goosebumps on her exposed back. Adrian was pacing back and forth, unable to meet her eyes. Feeling annoyed, Hermione snapped at him. "What the hell are we doing out here, Adrian? What's wrong?"

He looked up at her, brown eyes glowing in anger. "What's wrong? What's _wrong_ , Hermione?" he questioned sharply. "How could you do that to me? I want nothing to do with that man!"

Hermione was confused. How could Adrian feel that way? "But he is going to help restore order to our society! He wants to make the Wizarding world a better place."

"Don't be so naive, Hermione!" Adrian rolled his eyes at her. "He is nothing more than a power-hungry psychopath, willing to kill anyone who gets in his way!"

Unbidden, the memory of him trying to kill baby Harry Potter came to mind. She pushed it aside. "But you were a Slytherin! Doesn't your family believe...?" she trailed off.

"No, my family doesn't follow the old ways like yours does. There is no such thing as blood purity, Hermione. I thought you would be smart enough to figure that out on your own," he sneered. He was angry and sounded so sure of himself.

"Yes there is!" she insisted. "I thought you understood the way that things are _supposed_ to be. Hogwarts isn't the same anymore, and the Muggle-borns have no respect for our culture."

He groaned. "Mother was right. I should have listened to her," he said with a mean little smile on his face. "She told me all you Malfoys wore the Mark and that I should just forget about you. Now I wish I had."

Hermione felt her heart squeeze in her chest. She couldn't bear the thought that Adrian didn't want to be with her because of her beliefs. They were supposed to get married one day! She felt tears well up in her eyes and tried to get him to stay, helplessly. "But I don't wear the Mark, Adrian..." Her words died on her lips.

His face softened, seeing how pitiful she looked. "Hermione, he's in your house and you clearly know him. What difference does it make?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. Adrian dropped the charms. "Goodbye, Hermione," he said before Apparating away with a pop.

The resounding finality of his declaration made tears spill over her cheeks. Hermione ran from the balcony up to her room, unwilling to rejoin the party. She threw herself onto her bed and hugged one of her pillows tightly.

All the emotions from the past few weeks bubbled up inside her. She didn't understand why all of this was happening. She'd thought that she knew Adrian... that he _loved_ her. But now she was faced with the realization that he didn't want to be with her if she was going to follow the Dark Lord.

And there was no way she could give that up.


	10. Chapter 10

The morning after the party, Hermione sat at the breakfast table, sandwiched between her mother and brother. Professor Snape and the Lestranges were still there, as was the Dark Lord, who had taken the place at the head of the table.

She didn't think that she had ever felt more embarrassed in her life, and if she had been allowed, she never would have left her room. Instead, she was forced to sit at the table, pushing her breakfast back and forth, never attempting to bring the spoon to her mouth. She knew she wouldn't be able to swallow past the lump in her throat.

Her mother was worried. "Oh, Hermione, do try to eat something," she whispered quietly.

Hermione nodded, even though she knew she wouldn't. What was the point? She didn't think anything would ever taste good again.

Draco, obtuse as ever, only patted her hand in an attempt to comfort her. "Don't worry, Hermione, I will find a proper man for you. Someone who is smart and has the right kind of values," he promised.

She wanted to groan. Draco meant well and she knew that he wanted her married to the right wizard, but she couldn't stand the constant reminders of Adrian's rejection. Thinking about the pain he'd caused while it was still so raw only served to bring unbidden tears to her eyes. Hermione was uncomfortable showing this much emotion in front of their guests, most of all the Dark Lord. She didn't want them to think she was weak.

"Just do whatever you think is best, Draco," Hermione croaked out, her eyes firmly on her plate. "I trust your judgement." She wished her father was there. He would know exactly what to do and would find her the perfect match.

The Dark Lord cleared his throat. "Hermione, you have quite an aptitude for Legilimency," he said.

Everyone stopped eating and Hermione could feel the weight of their gazes on her. For the first time that day, she lifted her head to look at the Dark Lord, hoping that her red-rimmed eyes were not too obvious. She was just grateful to have the topic of discussion on _anything_ else other than Adrian or her future husband. "Thank you, my Lord," she said demurely.

"I've asked Severus to help you develop your skills further and to begin training you in Occlumency," he added.

"Thank you, my Lord," she repeated, her spirits momentarily buoyed. She was glad that he still saw enough use in her talents that he wanted to further develop them. "When do the lessons begin?"

"We can start when we return to Hogwarts. You don't have any free periods in your schedule, but I thought that Wednesday evenings might work best for both of our schedules," Professor Snape said.

For the first time that day, Hermione could feel an actual smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Yes, that will work for me, Professor Snape. I am very excited to get started," she answered.

The Dark Lord gave her a nod of approval, pleased with the change in her mood. Hermione wasn't entirely sure why, but his total indifference to her heartbreak made her feel better. He wasn't going to dwell on the topic like Draco and her mother, and focusing her attention on learning a new skill would help her move on from Adrian.

Hermione was more convinced than ever that the Dark Lord had her best interests at heart. He could be disappointed in her at times, but only because he saw her true potential. She strengthened her resolve that following him was the best choice she could make.

Adrian didn't know what he was talking about.

She turned to her mother. "May I be excused? I would like to pack my trunk," she explained. "I find myself very excited to return to school."

There was no hiding the worry in her mother's eyes, but she gave Hermione permission all the same to leave the table. Wishing everyone a good day, Hermione retreated to her room to prepare for their train ride back to Hogwarts the next day.

* * *

Draco had been excessively persistent in his desire to pair her with a suitable wizard after she gave him permission to do as he saw fit. It had barely been a week since they'd returned from the Yule break and Draco had spent his spare time cultivating lists of potential suitors. Whenever he managed to corner her, he would give her short presentations on this wizard or that. She was growing increasingly frustrated with his suggestions - as if she would ever become a Flint! - and finally snapped at him, reminding her brother that he had a task to complete.

When Draco wasn't bothering her, Harry Potter was. She knew the _noble_ Gryffindor felt horribly guilty about what he'd done to her, but she wasn't going to do anything to alleviate it. He deserved to wallow in despair, agonizing over what he'd done, not just to her, but to her father as well. He deserved to never be able to rest, always looking over his shoulder for retaliation. Sometimes he would come up to her in the library looking as exhausted as she did, wanting to say something to her, only to turn away quickly when his mouth failed to produce a sound.

Finally, she'd had to send a Stinging Hex his way and order him to leave her alone. If he had any brains, he'd listen.

The only place she seemed to get any peace was in her bed, with her curtains spelled shut with a silencing spell to drown out the noise of Pansy's gossip.

While she was in her little hideaway, she could finally catch up on her schoolwork and begin to do some research on Occlumency. She so wanted to impress Professor Snape because he was sure to report her performance to the Dark Lord. Hermione knew it was imperative to reward his faith in her with results.

She and Draco still needed to iron out the details of what to do with their little Dumbledore problem. The man was constantly traveling and seemed ill, which limited their options. But the Dark Lord had ordered Draco to kill the Headmaster before the year's end, and so Hermione would make sure it happened.

Once it was done, they would let some select Death Eaters into Hogwarts through the Vanishing Cabinet she'd repaired. Hermione wouldn't forget the pride she'd felt when her initial testing was successful. She sent a crisp green apple through the magical device and Fenrir (the _animal_ ) had sent it back with a big bite taken out of it. When she sent a canary through, he'd returned it with a snapped neck.

She wasn't sure if it was some sort of threat. Fenrir made her uneasy.

It didn't bother her too much, though, because she knew that the Dark Lord would always protect her.

Hermione began to undress for bed, slipping out of her uniform and into a long flannel nightgown that dusted the floor. It was hard to keep warm in the dungeons.

In some ways, the Dark Lord frightened her. She knew Adrian was right that he was willing to kill anyone who got in his way without remorse. That was evident from the two memories she'd seen. She couldn't imagine how he could possibly be so emotionless - especially when she herself was so emotional.

He was so powerful, too. When she was with him, she allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of being enveloped by his magic. It was seductive, warm, and made her feel safe.

Hermione flopped back against the bed, propped up against the pillows. She let her mind wander to the last private encounter she'd had with the Dark Lord, in her bedroom before the Yule party. Hermione had been so worried that he was going to punish her for losing a duel, but instead, it was clear that he only wanted to protect her. She had been so pleased when he'd promised her that he would punish Potter for what he'd done.

The feeling of his finger ghosting along the surface of her skin had sent a shiver up her spine. She almost couldn't believe that he'd touched her that way. Even though she was quite warm in her bed, Hermione could feel her skin turn to gooseflesh and her nipples harden into tight little peaks. A throbbing between her legs grew more insistent and she squeezed her thighs together, hoping to make the ache go away.

She wondered what would have happened if the Dark Lord had wanted to see how far her scar really went. Would he trace it all the way down her stomach to its edge just above her knickers? Or would he grow too distracted by her body to stop?

Hermione stifled a moan as her little daydream continued. She certainly wouldn't ask him what he was doing. No, she was certain that she would revel in the power she felt, able to captivate a man as powerful as the Dark Lord.

The ache between her legs was too much to bear so Hermione cupped her hand against her center. She gasped at the feeling, surprised by the slickness between her legs. Even with the fabric over her skin, she could tell that there was one spot she liked to touch more than anywhere else and concentrated the pressure there.

Rocking her hand back and forth, Hermione quickly found a rhythm that appealed to her most. It was so wrong to be doing this, but she couldn't help it. It was even worse to be thinking about the Dark Lord while she did it, but he invaded her mind. Her eyes slipped shut and she focused on how handsome he was, with his pale skin and dark hair, and yes, even his unusual reddish eyes.

How would it feel to kiss him? Would he possess every inch of her, dominate her mouth and her body? Would he know how to push her closer to...whatever it was that her body was racing towards?

Salazar, she was sure that he would. He was so knowledgeable, she was sure the Dark Lord would know exactly what to do with her. He would press his soft lips against hers and press his hand between her legs, whispering, encouraging her to go after what she wanted.

She was so close now to whatever it was she was seeking that she couldn't stop her desperate movements. Finally, it seemed as if her body tightened to the point that it couldn't anymore, and something inside of her snapped. Waves and waves of delicious pleasure rolled over her and she was helpless to do anything but lie back and enjoy it.

When she felt like she'd come back into her own mind, Hermione was a little embarrassed by her actions, the lingering slickness in her knickers a reminder of what she'd done. She couldn't imagine what the Dark Lord would think if he knew what she'd done. But the lingering aftershocks of pleasure wouldn't allow her to regret doing it.

* * *

The following Wednesday evening, Hermione joined Professor Snape in his office in the dungeons, ready to have her first lesson in Occlumency.

They had met once before, for Professor Snape to assess her skills. Hermione was quite good at getting into someone's mind, especially without them noticing while they tried Legilimency on her. It seemed that her magic was very good at sneaking its way past someone's Occlumency shields. Professor Snape, of course, always noticed before she could see anything too interesting. It made her wonder if the Dark Lord had been letting her explore his mind.

Hermione was not very good at keeping Snape out, though.

She knew he was a master, but he was also relentless in his attacks. Their sessions left her feeling mentally exhausted and physically drained. Of course, this practice would only help her in the long run, but it was still such a frustration feeling like a failure again.

As soon as she entered his office, Professor Snape met her gaze. " _Legilimens,_ " he barely whispered.

When he entered her mind, it was not the same as when the Dark Lord did. The Dark Lord was sultry and tantalizing, coaxing her memories out. Professor Snape seemed to slither between the memories before finding one to latch onto and not let go. Today, Hermione was trying to give him a memory of Draco and her playing together as children, chasing peacocks in the garden, but he found her first meeting with the Dark Lord easily. Immediately, Hermione was reminded of her embarrassment at having barged into the library without knocking.

Professor Snape left her mind abruptly. "You have to try harder, Miss Malfoy," he insisted. "Imagine if the Order got ahold of you. Don't you want to keep the Dark Lord safe?"

"Of course," Hermione answered bitterly. She knew this is what her professor did every time - clawing at her, dragging up every insecurity she had.

"Again," he commanded. " _Legilimens._ "

This time, Hermione pushed harder and forced him to view the memory of Draco and the peacocks. They had been so happy and carefree then, she remembered fondly. Draco was still her best friend.

Her brief moment of sentimentality allowed Professor Snape to bypass the memory and he slipped away to her discussion on the balcony with Adrian. Hermione was thrust into her sadness, her heartbreak once again.

Why was he doing this to her? Hermione pushed Professor Snape from her mind. "Stop it, please!" she pleaded. "I need a minute."

Instead, the Potions master entered her mind a third time. Hermione was completely unprepared and he found her mortifying memory of the way that she'd touched herself while imaging the Dark Lord examining her scar. She felt helpless as her professor watched her imagining the dark-haired man caressing her, tracing her scar.

While her professor was stunned by what he saw, Hermione threw him from her mind and entered his. She latched onto the first memory she could find. He was talking with a beautiful red-haired teenager. She could feel his anger when he called her _Mudblood_ and then his sadness at seeing her with Potter. She somehow knew that he loved the woman - Potter's mother.

Hermione found herself back in Professor Snape's office. His face was far from the stoic poise he normally presented. He looked flustered and concerned. "Did he really—" he started to ask.

She blushed furiously, shaking her head. "No, no, it was all just a..." she trailed off looking for the right word to describe it. Fantasy sounded too salacious. "A daydream."

"I have to tell him," Professor Snape said, concern evident on his face. "You've gotten too close and your...feelings make you a bigger risk than you already were."

"Please don't," Hermione begged. She couldn't imagine what the Dark Lord would think if he knew how she'd behaved when she thought about him. He was so serious that she highly doubted that he would be impressed that she was letting her teenage lust cloud her impressions of her. "I'm sure other people have been in the same situation...my Aunt Bellatrix."

"It's dangerous," Professor Snape argued.

Hermione pressed her hands into her face. "I know, but I don't want him to think of me any differently," she answered back, unwilling to believe that she was having this conversation with her Head of House. "He's just so powerful...the greatest wizard alive, and it's hard not to want to impress him. I couldn't bear it if he thought I was nothing more than a silly girl."

"I'm sure he doesn't think of you as silly," her professor said as gently as possible. "But your emotions make it incredibly easy to get around any blocks you try to put up in your mind. You could expose the Dark Lord if you fell into the wrong hands."

She was sure she was going to cry. The Slytherin in her thought about trying to blackmail her professor for what she'd seen about Lily Potter, but she knew that he was already a step ahead of her. "If you think it's necessary," she agreed, resigned to her fate.

"He won't be repulsed," Professor Snape promised her, giving her hand a little squeeze. "He's still a man. And these things are...normal for a witch or wizard your age."

Hermione stood up, pulling her hand away and spinning away from him. "I'd rather not talk about this with you," she said, feeling that familiar lump in her throat. "I think I'm going to return to my dorm now."


	11. Chapter 11

Tonight was _the_ night.

Hermione had joined Draco in the Astronomy Tower to await Dumbledore's return. The Headmaster had left the school with Potter earlier that evening via broomstick and they had to return eventually.

And when they did, they'd be face to face with Death Eaters and the tip of Draco's wand.

There was no putting the deed off any longer: the school year was nearly over and Draco had to do his part now or never. Everything was coming together just as they'd planned it.

Professor Snape had left them alone while he retrieved the Death Eaters coming through the Vanishing Cabinet, so that left Hermione alone with Draco for the first time in a while. The warm June air seemed restless as they hid in the shadows. She wanted nothing more than to reassure her brother that everything was going to go perfectly.

"Remember, Draco, all of our family's past failures will be forgotten once we succeed tonight," she said with a smile. "And all the glory will be _yours_."

"I _know,_ Hermione," Draco snapped in response. It was clear that he had not wanted this task, but he also knew that he had to accept it. Not just for his father and mother, but for Hermione, too. "I want nothing more than to bring glory to the Malfoy name," he added, sincerity shining in his grey eyes.

Hermione understood her brother's fears. She had them, too, after all. But she also knew that they had no other option than to kill Headmaster Dumbledore. Stepping closer to Draco, she wrapped her arms around him, giving him a tight hug.

He returned the gesture, pulling her closer.

With her head on his chest, Hermione could hear just how rapidly his heart beat in his chest, a true testament to his nerves. "We will bring glory to our family, Draco. This is the beginning of a new era, and years from now, people will remember that it started with House Malfoy."

Hermione loved her brother. In her Occlumency training with Professor Snape, she often revisited memories of her childhood with Draco. It left her feeling particularly sentimental about him. Although she knew he didn't possess the same drive or ambitions that she did with regards to the Dark Lord, the memories endeared him to her. She knew he was afraid to kill someone, but she knew he could do it, with her support.

Draco stiffened. "They are coming back," he said, his voice a soft rumble against her ear.

Hermione gave him one last squeeze before releasing him. She then made sure that they were still hidden by the shadows, to give them the element of surprise.

It felt like it took ages for the two brooms to touch down in the Astronomy Tower. Dumbledore sensed their presence immediately and sent an oblivious Harry Potter down the stairs. Something was wrong with the Headmaster. While he wasn't a young man by any means, he seemed particularly feeble to Hermione. Could this really be the same wizard that had defeated Grindelwald?

Taking action, Draco stepped out of the shadows with his wand drawn, but that did not surprise Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Draco," he said, no hint of emotion in his voice. "What are you doing out of bed on a night like tonight?"

Draco tensed, hating being treated like nothing more than a naughty school child. "You _know_ what I'm doing here...what I was _chosen_ to do!" he said, trying to project confidence, but his voice was already wavering.

Hermione knew he was afraid.

"Pardon me, Draco, but I hardly feel that you've made any _real_ attempt to kill me thus far," the old man said gently. "A cursed necklace? Poisoned mead? You don't have it in you to kill me."

She could see Draco's wand shaking. Hermione knew that she had to do something to keep things on track. She stepped out of the shadows to stand shoulder to shoulder with her brother, wanting to give him confidence. "Don't listen to him Draco," she whispered. "Remember, we will do this together."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at her words. "I can help you both - give you protection from _him_ ," he offered the siblings. "I know that you were forced into this, to atone for your father's mistakes."

Hearing that angered Hermione more than she was expecting. Didn't he know that they _chose_ this? "We don't want protection from the Dark Lord! Do it, Draco!" she insisted.

The sound of heavy boots pounding up the wooden stairs alerted the Headmaster to their guests. Bellatrix's unmistakable cackling laugh echoed up the circular stairs.

This seemed to spur on Draco. " _Expelliarmus!_ " he called out, making Dumbledore's wand fly out of his hand in an arc. Draco snatched it out of the air.

"Others? But how?" the Headmaster asked.

" _I_ repaired the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement months ago," Hermione boasted gleefully. She could tell that the old man was genuinely surprised. Did he not realize he had such a dangerous magical artifact in his school? Or was he surprised that she'd managed it on her own?

Bellatrix blasted the door in before walking in, flanked by Rodolphus and Greyback. Professor Snape slithered in a few seconds afterwards.

"Excellent work, Hermione, Draco," she said with a sickly sweet smile on her face. "But you didn't have to wait for us to get here. _Finish it!_ "

Rodolphus was the first to notice Draco's shaking hand. "He doesn't have the guts to kill him," he said with a sneer. "You are so disappointingly like your father, Draco."

Hermione's resolve solidified in that moment. This was a task for the _Malfoys_ and if Draco couldn't do it, _she_ would. She stepped in front of her brother and raised her wand.

Aunt Bellatrix's eyes lit up at her actions. "Yes, Hermione, my sweet niece! I know that you have it in you," she whispered, egging the younger witch on.

Hermione took a deep breath, centering herself. She knew that it would be difficult to master this spell on her first try, but she liked her chances. Just as she was about to begin the spell, though, a deep voice broke her concentration.

"No!" Professor Snape stepped in front of her, facing Dumbledore. Before anyone else could move, he had raised his wand and cast the Killing Curse. " _Avada Kedavra!_ " His voice was even and betrayed no emotion - no anger or ire.

Dumbledore's eyes seemed to widen in utter surprise before he fell back over the edge of the Astronomy Tower. Dead.

Hermione was shocked, too. There was an anger boiling up inside of her, furious with her professor for stealing her glory. Before she could unleash her fury on him, Rodolphus was grabbing her by the collar, ushering her and Draco down the stairs, away from the Tower. They hurried through the halls with Aunt Bellatrix skipping ahead of them, blasting artifacts and anything else that they saw along the way.

Inside, Hermione was _seething_. It had been _their_ task, and Professor Snape had ruined everything. What would the Dark Lord think of them now? She reached down and held Draco's hand.

Before long, they were back home at Malfoy Manor, standing in audience with the Dark Lord in their library.

"Dumbledore is dead!" Bellatrix said, bowing with flourish, so pleased to be the one to deliver the news. "Severus was the one to cast the curse."

Hermione kept her lips together in a tight line, trying to keep in her anger. It wouldn't do for her to have an emotional outburst in front of Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord frowned. "Severus?" he asked, clearly confused that the Malfoy siblings had not been the one to deliver the killing blow. His reddish eyes found Hermione's, but he didn't look too upset. Obviously, his desired outcome had come to pass, even if it wasn't in the desired fashion.

Hermione shoved Draco forward, hissing at her brother to present the Headmaster's wand.

"Dumbledore's?" he asked, sounding impressed.

She nodded. "Yes, Draco had cast an _Expelliarmus_ ," she explained, before stopping herself from disparaging their Potions professor for not giving them a chance to take out the Headmaster first.

"Hermione, Draco, you have both proven yourselves to me and you deserve a reward for all of your hard work," he said with a rare grin. "I have someone who would like to see you very much."

A wave of his hand made the doors open, revealing both of their parents. Their mother was holding their father at the waist. He looked very thin and frail.

Any anger Hermione was holding onto dissipated immediately. A huge grin blossomed on her face, while her eyes filled with tears. She ran across the room to envelope her father in a tight hug. "Oh, papa! I am so glad to see you!" she whispered.

Her father was so weak and had red-rimmed eyes that suggested he hadn't slept in a long while. He was happy to see her, though, and grateful that the Dark Lord had freed him from Azkaban. He returned her hug, holding Hermione tightly to his chest, revealing that he was stronger than he looked. He let her go far too soon, but only to wrap Draco in an equally tight embrace.

Hermione turned and gave the Dark Lord a beaming smile. "Thank you so much, my Lord, for returning our father to us," she said.

The Dark Lord returned her smile and nodded. "Why don't the four of you go catch up? I'd like to speak to Severus. Alone."

br

After giving the Malfoys some time alone together to catch up, the Dark Lord called his inner circle for celebrations. Hermione and Draco would also be attending, despite the somewhat disturbing news that he'd learned from Severus.

He was disappointed to learn that Draco was either unable or unwilling to complete the task he'd been given. He was pleased to learn that Hermione had been willing to step in and take over for her useless brother.

Severus claimed to have stepped in because he was worried Hermione wouldn't be able to complete the spell on her first attempt. But now he was left wondering what would have been the outcome. Hermione was a capable and focused witch, so he had no doubt she would have been impressive even if she hadn't been able to kill the Headmaster outright.

The sorry Potions master also claimed that he was worried about Hermione splitting her soul. Severus had already killed several times, so his soul was tarnished and destroyed, but Hermione's was unblemished. The Dark Lord was disappointed that Severus believed in that nonsense about souls being destroyed, but knew that the man deserved a reward nonetheless.

His Death Eaters quickly assembled, sitting around the Malfoys' grand dinner table. The Dark Lord took the seat at the head, with Lucius to his left hand and Severus to his right. Hermione sat between her father and brother, deep in conversation with the older wizard. He'd grown so taciturn, but he was pleased to listen to his daughter tell him about all her classes and how well she'd done.

She really was beautiful - lighting up the whole room.

On the other side of Draco, Narcissa sat looking stoic as ever. Her sister was across from her, eagerly discussing torture with Fenrir Greyback. Rodolphus sat on the other side of the werewolf, grinning as Bellatrix described an Entrail-Expelling Curse.

And Voldemort sat silent, observing, as he usually did. He ate sparsely, never especially enamored with food. Finally, when dinner was finished, he cleared his throat, waiting for everyone to become silent.

"I have some announcements to make. First, a reward is in order for Severus, who killed a man who has been a thorn in my side for so long," he said with a grin. The Potions master puffed out his chest, sitting up a little straighter, eager to hear what the reward was. "Severus will become the new Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Immediately, the man deflated a little bit, unsure of what to say. "Thank you, my Lord," he mumbled eventually.

The Dark Lord smirked while Rodolphus and Lucius congratulated Severus. Of course, he knew that Severus did not enjoy teaching, but it was certainly a step up from lowly Potions master. He wouldn't really have to deal with the children if he didn't want to.

"The second issue is that of Hermione's hand in marriage. I asked Lucius and Draco to let me review any proposed marriage contracts for Hermione. I want to ensure that her talents continue to flourish and that she can continue to support our cause effectively, the way she has this last year," he announced to the table.

"Yes, thank you my Lord, for looking after my daughter while I was away," Lucius said, obviously uneasy. He placed his hand over Hermione's, giving it a squeeze.

"I must admit that all of the wizards considered thus far have been inadequate in some way or another," he said, trailing off. "I found myself wondering who is worthy enough to have her."

He looked around the table, daring any one of his supporters to suggest some other name. He wouldn't put it past Rodolphus to suggest Rabastan or Draco to suggest one of his silly little friends again. But no one spoke.

"I confess that I couldn't think of anyone better suited to Hermione than..." he let the suspense grow, eagerly anticipating everyone's reactions. "Myself."

The gasp in the room was palpable. But the Dark Lord was only focused on one person's reaction - Hermione's.

It was clear that she was still processing the information, a hand pressed to her chest to slow her beating heart. Cautiously, she lifted her brown eyes to look at her would-be suitor. "Thank you, my Lord," she said, sounding breathless. "This is a great honor to House Malfoy and I will do everything I can to be a good wife to you."

Lucius then regained his ability to talk, though his face remained quite red. He had to swallow a few times before he could get the words out. "My Lord, I would be glad to have my daughter marry you, of course, but what have we done to...deserve this honor?"

The Dark Lord thought Lucius saw this opportunity more as a punishment. And Narcissa clearly shared that sentiment. Her normally stoic face was scrunched up in distaste at the idea, but she was doing everything she could to not make eye contact with anyone.

Bellatrix was the most upset, however. "But my Lord!" she whined. "You have never _ever_ mentioned needing a wife before!"

"It _is_ true, but in this case, I think it is the right choice," Voldemort said truthfully. "For everyone."


	12. Chapter 12

Bellatrix was incredibly unhappy with the Dark Lord's decision to marry her niece. She had never once thought that the powerful wizard had any interest in taking a wife, or else she would have put up a much bigger fight to stave off her parents' plans to marry her to Rodolphus when she was younger. Why should the Dark Lord choose Hermione when he could have had someone like her?

At least Bellatrix could sense that her brother-in-law and sister were not pleased with the idea either, although it was a far better match than any pureblood girl could hope for! It practically guaranteed that the Malfoys would remain in good favor with the Dark Lord forever.

But she'd seen the looks that they'd been giving one another after the announcement, and the hurried way that they had left the dining room. Bellatrix decided to be a little bit nosy.

She crept silently down the hallway towards her sister's private sitting room, meeting no one along the way. Pressing her ear against the door, Bellatrix was pleased to note that they hadn't even bothered to cast any anti-eavesdropping charms, assuming that no one else would come to this part of the house.

"Lucius, you have to do something!" Narcissa hissed fiercely. "Make _some_ excuse...tell him — tell him you've already accepted a contract?"

"You know I can't do that, Narcissa," Lucius answered regretfully. Bellatrix could hear him pacing back and forth. "Let me think..."

A whisper of a sob came through the door. Narcissa was crying.

"He can't marry her," her sister chanted hysterically.

"But why not?" Lucius demanded. "Why don't we just say nothing? No one will ever be the wiser. Just like the last seventeen years."

"During the bonding ceremony, he will be able to tell that she isn't our daughter!" Narcissa answered.

Bellatrix's eyes nearly popped out of her head. She simply _had_ to tell the Dark Lord this. While she knew that she couldn't have him, not anymore, she didn't want any other witch to either. She had been just fine living with the idea that he was asexual - too focused on his goals to be distracted by a witch.

She would be damned if she let her little upstart _fake_ niece shatter that ideal.

* * *

The morning after the Dark Lord had made his surprising announcement, Hermione had crept out of her room, with _Hogwarts, A History_ under her arm, ready to do some light reading in the library. She wasn't keen to see anyone at the moment, still unwilling to process her feelings on this new arrangement.

Immediately upon entering the library, though, she was made aware of the presence of her future husband. Taking a deep breath to give her courage, Hermione greeted him quietly to get his attention. "Good morning, my Lord."

She seemed to have caught him by surprise because he startled when he looked up from his own book. But he did seem pleased to see her. "Good morning, Hermione," he answered. "Come and sit with me."

Hermione was nervous. More nervous than usual, of course. She no longer felt like she knew how to act around the Dark wizard, but decided that following his directions was the best course of action. She sat next to him on the small loveseat and immediately blushed when she felt his leg press up against hers. Thinking about what her parents would think if they knew that she was here with him without a chaperone made shivers run up her spine. But then again...they _were_ to be married.

How was it possible that a wizard as powerful as him had chosen her for his bride?

Unable to speak, Hermione decided to open her book, wishing to be absorbed in its words. She could feel his gaze heavy on her and wondered what he thought of her. Did he find her beautiful? Did he mind that she didn't have the classic Malfoy hair and instead took after Aunt Bellatrix? Did he find her pale and unappealing? She nibbled away at her lower lip, her stomach full of knots from wondering what her future husband might think of her.

Before she realized what was happening, he was reaching out and pushing a bit of hair behind her ear, exposing her neck to him. His fingers trailed feather light over the curve of her jaw down to her slightly pointy chin, turning her face to look at him.

If he hadn't minded her outspoken nature before their engagement, Hermione hoped that the Dark Lord wouldn't mind her meeting his eyes as an equal. Still, her body shuddered in anticipation of whatever was going to come next.

To her surprise, it was Bellatrix bursting into the room, shattering the moment. "My Lord, I need to speak with you at once," she said, staring Hermione down with a cruel look in her eyes. " _Alone_."

Voldemort sighed, but let Hermione go. "Hermione, go upstairs. I will find you later this afternoon to discuss further arrangements," he commanded.

She wanted to argue - to boldly tell Bellatrix that anything she had to say to the Dark Lord could surely be shared with his future bride as well. But she wasn't sure how Voldemort would take that kind of behavior and she wasn't willing to risk it in front of an audience. "Of course. I look forward to it," Hermione said, giving him a shy smile.

Gathering her book, Hermione returned to her room, thinking that it would be good to figure out a plan of action with the Dark Lord. She was sure their relationship would go back to normal soon enough.

* * *

When Hermione woke up, her head was throbbing and she felt groggy and confused. Looking around, she realized that she was in one of the cells in the basement of her home that had been used to hold prisoners at one point in time. She was lying on a thin mattress that did little to stop the cold of the stone floor from seeping in.

Closing her eyes, she tried to remember what happened.

Bits and pieces came back. She'd been in her bed, reading a book and waiting for the Dark Lord to call on her when her beloved house-elf Mopsy had popped into her room. Odd - she hadn't called for her. And yes, it was Mopsy who had rendered her unconscious then.

She must have been the one who brought her to the dungeons, but then again, why had that happened?

Standing up, Hermione groaned, feeling sore from her inauspicious sleeping spot. She wasn't sure how long she'd been lying there as there were no windows in the cell. Immediately, she tried to call Mopsy, to have that naughty elf let her out, but she did not come when called. Hermione knew she would likely just have to wait until someone realized she was missing and tracked her down.

It seemed like an eternity before there was finally movement on the other side of the door. When the door finally swung open, the Dark Lord appeared in the frame.

Hermione immediately perked up, glad that he had come to help her. "My Lord, thank you so much for getting me out of this awful place!" she said, crossing the distance between them. "I don't know what happened."

Walking made her realize that she was a bit woozier than she had anticipated. She began to stumble, but was pleased when Voldemort caught her in his arms.

But then, the gentle concern in his eyes evaporated, leaving behind a hardness. He deposited her back down on the pallet. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice bordering on furious.

Hermione shook, unused to this sort of scrutiny. "What do you mean? It's me - Hermione. Hermione Mafloy," she answered.

This was not the answer that he was looking for. He lunged across the room, grabbing her by the shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "I'll ask you again," he said, his breath a harsh exhale from flared nostrils. " _Who are you?_ "

She could feel tears in her eyes, wondering where this line of questioning was coming from. She was so confused, being held captive in her own home and then being asked this...she didn't understand. "I _am_ Hermione Malfoy, my Lord, I swear it. Look into my mind if you don't believe me," she pleaded.

He immediately took her up on the offer, entering her mind. It was no longer the silky smooth caress that she was used to. Instead, he was jumping from this memory to that, like a person ripping everything out of a desk trying to find what they were looking for. He seemed to savagely focus on a particular memory of Pansy teasing her for not having blonde hair like the rest of her family.

It hurt to have her mind rifled through like that, but she would endure it if that's what he required. She could feel tears running down her red cheeks.

Eventually, he pulled out of her mind. He _seemed_ satisfied with what he saw, but he gave her no indication of what was going on. Instead, he stood and left the room, locking the door behind him, not bothering to explain what was happening.

* * *

The Dark Lord returned some unspecified time later.

Hermione couldn't tell if she had managed to sleep in the time that he was gone, but she was glad that he was back. Maybe now he'd tell her why she was locked up in her own home like a prisoner!

Without speaking, he transfigured her pallet into a sofa. Hermione squeaked in surprise when she was suddenly raised up off of the floor. Her muscles were sore from the uncomfortable environment, so she was glad to have a bit of softness. She sat up, smoothing her robes.

Voldemort sat down on the couch next to her. He kept his gaze on the floor for a long time, seemingly unsure of where to begin their talk. The longer it took for him to _say something_ the more the dread grew in her belly.

"Hermione, I have something to tell you, but it's going to be unpleasant to hear," he said, pausing a moment to find the words. "Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy are not your biological parents."

"What?" Hermione asked, feeling like she'd just been sucker punched. But then...his demands of who she really was seemed to make sense.

"You are, in fact, the daughter of two...Muggles that Narcissa rescued," he explained.

Immediately, anger began to bubble up in her. No - this couldn't be right! He must be lying! Because if he wasn't lying, that meant that she was a...

"That isn't possible," Hermione insisted. "The manor has wards...blood wards and wards to keep Mudbloods out." She flinched at saying the slur, considering that it might apply to herself.

"It took a little bit of _convincing_ , but eventually they revealed the secret to me," the Dark Lord explained. "They performed blood magic on you; the ritual made you blood related to Lucius and Narcissa."

Hermione frowned, knowing that "convincing" probably meant torture. She felt so many emotions at the moment, she wasn't sure which one she should grab hold of. She was furious...furious that the Malfoys had taken her away from her parents and never told her the truth. Mostly, she was just hurt that her _whole_ life had been a lie. A sob came bubbling from within her chest.

She was so upset and she needed a little bit of comfort. Before she could stop herself, she was flinging herself against the Dark Lord's chest, burying her face into the warm wool of his robes. "Why would they do this to me?" she asked.

His arms came to wrap around her body, pulling her a little tighter against him. In that moment, she felt a little bit safer, even though she was being held by the Dark Lord, someone who'd professed to hate Muggle-borns.

"Why did they never tell me?" she begged, hoping for some kind of answer.

He stilled at her question. "Would you like to ask them?" he offered.

Hermione looked up, eyes still full of tears. She knew that she probably shouldn't - not when she was so raw and so hurt, but she needed to see and confront her parents. Nodding furiously, Hermione agreed.

He stood from the couch and offered her his arm, escorting out of her cell. They made a short walk down the hall until they stopped in front of another door. "Just knock on the door when you are finished," he instructed.

Hermione wrenched the door open, ready to see her parents. She wished that the Dark Lord would stand with her, but she also knew that she needed to do this on her own.

When she walked in, her mother - _Narcissa_ \- ran to her and wrapped her in a big hug that Hermione did not return. "Oh Hermione, my sweet Hermione," she whispered again and again, running her hand over Hermione's hair. "I'm so glad you are safe."

Immediately, Hermione stiffened. Narcissa's hug felt smothering. She shrugged Narcissa's arms away. "'My Hermione'?" she questioned. "I'm not _your_ Hermione."

"We don't care, Hermione. You are our daughter," Lucius said earnestly. "We've raised you and loved you from the moment we brought you home. You are a Malfoy by blood."

Hearing her father's pleading, Hermione felt her resolve beginning to crumble. But she was still so _angry_. "How could you do this to me? You taught me to hate what I am - putting down Muggle-borns and spouting off how they should be kept out of Hogwarts!" she raged, fresh tears in her eyes. "You call the Longbottoms blood traitors. What does that make _you_? You took in a _filthy Mudblood_ to raise as your own."

Narcissa was crying too. "You don't understand. I couldn't let Bellatrix kill you," she tried to explain. "I took one look at you in your crib and knew that I could keep you safe. You were such a strong little witch, even as a baby. I knew you were the daughter I was _meant_ to have."

The younger witch frowned at the twisted logic. Her parents were at least partially responsible for the death of her Muggle parents, and they thought taking her away from her real life could just make things better...wash away everything they'd done.

"Why couldn't you just explain it to me? You could have told me years ago when even Pansy Parkinson realized I wasn't a Malfoy," Hermione choked out. "Instead, you concealed the truth with your lies and your blood magic! I should have known...I suppose I always knew deep down, but I was too stupid and naive to put the pieces together!"

"I only did it because I love you, Hermione. I just wanted to keep you safe," Narcissa said, crying harder than Hermione had ever seen her cry in her whole life. "I'm so so sorry."

But it was not enough to move Hermione in that moment. "Well, you obviously didn't love me enough to tell me the truth. You didn't love me enough to stop me from hating Muggle-borns - what I really am!" she spat out.

Suddenly, it was all too much. It had been too soon to try to talk to them. She turned and knocked quickly on the door, waiting patiently for the Dark Lord to open it. "I'm done here," she told her parents, before slipping out of the little cell. Once the door was shut behind her, she pressed her head against the cool metal, listening to her mother cry on the other side.


	13. Chapter 13

After learning that her whole life had been a lie, Hermione had a very rough time handling her emotions. While she was allowed to return to her room, Hermione had not left it and refused to get up from her bed.

She wouldn't let anyone in, except for Draco. Her _brother_ sat with her for several hours each day. Sometimes, he'd even hold her tightly, his own eyes shiny with tears, promising her that she would always be his sister no matter what. They had spent so much time together that it didn't matter. She was closer to him than anyone else.

Draco had finally managed to convince her to bathe herself the day before. The hot water had done wonders to remove the aches and pains that had accumulated over the week. She didn't have any tears left to cry.

Hermione was so conflicted about her 'parents.' Despite her anger with them, she couldn't deny that was what they were. They had raised her, housed her - loved her, even - her whole life. She couldn't simply forget every memory she had with Lucius and Narcissa as her parents. But she was still so hurt that they had never told her the truth.

And how had they ever let her be around that horrible witch, Bellatrix?

She simply wasn't ready to forgive them yet, but she thought that she would eventually.

Hermione lay in bed with her adorably ugly cat curled up next to her. "Oh Crookshanks," Hermione said with a sigh, letting her finger scratch the massive cat behind his ears. "You'd never betray me. Let's run away together."

The orange furball purred louder in agreement, but he didn't even open his eyes to look at her. The soft rumble of his purr was comforting to Hermione, though.

A knock at the door disturbed the cozy pair. Hermione didn't have the energy to deal with Draco and his sad grey eyes today and told him as much. "Go away, Draco! I don't want to see anyone today," she yelled at the door.

"I am not Draco," the Dark Lord answered from the other side of the door.

Hermione frowned. She didn't really want to see him either. He had also betrayed her by holding her prisoner in her own home and ripping through her memories, unable to believe that she wasn't who she said she was. Not to mention the hippogriff in the room that she didn't know if they were still to be married or not!

"I don't want to see you either," she squeaked out petulantly.

"Hermione, let me into this room or I will break down the door," he responded, sounding exasperated.

"I don't care!" Hermione yelled back.

It took the Dark Lord a trivial amount of time to break down her wards and open the door. Still, Hermione did not get up from the bed and instead kept her focus on the sunshine streaming in from the window, as if Mother Nature herself was mocking her pain.

The Dark Lord walked around the bed and sat down on the edge so that she was forced to look at him. Crookshanks opened a lazy eye and closed it again when he sensed no danger.

"What is the meaning of this? Why are you refusing to see me?" he asked, annoyed but curious.

Hermione looked at him with anger in her eyes. "You hurt me," she said, swallowing the hard lump that appeared in her throat.

He appeared uncomfortable, but he didn't acknowledge her statement. She didn't think he was used to having to ask for forgiveness. "I am having an old Healer from Albania come to define your blood status today," he said instead.

"Why does it matter?" Hermione asked with a frown. "We both know that I am a Mudblood. So why don't you just kill me already?"

He seemed unsure of himself for a moment before resolve came over his face. "Hermione, I am going to tell you something, but first, I need an oath that you won't speak of it to anyone," he said.

Curious as to what his secret would be, Hermione held out her arm and let her hand touch his pale skin. She was surprised by how warm his skin was under her fingertips. When their hands were clasped together, she recited an oath.

"I don't care if you are a Mudblood," he started haltingly. "I was born to a Squib mother and a Muggle father, and I am the most powerful wizard alive."

Hermione looked at him in shock. "Your mother was a Squib?" she asked, nervous but also in complete awe of the truth. She pulled herself up to sitting in her bed, suddenly very interested in what he had to say.

"Yes, but she was still very adept at potioneering and was able to ensnare my father with a love potion. When she stopped giving him doses, he left her pregnant and alone," he said. "She died less than a day after I was born."

She felt her heart surge with empathy for him. "That is so awful," she said, hoping that he didn't think she pitied him. "I can't believe he'd do that to her...to you." Even if using a love potion on a Muggle was unethical, the Dark Lord still hadn't asked to be put in that situation.

"It hasn't bothered me for a long time," he said with a frown. "They have all been dead and out of my life for many years."

A flicker of the memory of him killing the man who looked so much like him snapped back into Hermione's mind. "Oh."

"As I said, I don't care if you are a Mudblood. There is no such thing as having "pure" blood," he continued. "All I care about is _power_. Raw magic. And you have that in spades, Hermione."

She flushed at the compliment, glad to know that he recognized her potential. "So then, why do the Death Eaters want to get rid of Mudbloods? I thought that was _your_ idea."

"If my dimwitted followers choose to interpret my hatred for my filthy Muggle father for abandoning me as an infant for hatred of all Muggles and Mudbloods, then so be it," he explained. "Using their pure blood mania to get their support is merely a means to an end."

"That seems short-sighted...to fight for something you don't believe in," Hermione argued, wondering what his long-term plans were. Would he ever give the Death Eaters what they wanted?

"It's politics," he said humorlessly.

"Why do you need my blood status to be verified when you don't believe it can be?" she asked, curious. She couldn't decide what purpose there could be.

He smirked at her. "So many questions today, Hermione," he taunted. "Yes, your blood cannot be verified because there is no such thing as 'pure' blood. It's for the optics of it - so no one can kick up a fuss when we perform our soul bonding."

Hermione was shocked. She had never once believed that he was still planning on marrying her. She was expecting to be killed once the truth came out, not end up with the Dark Lord himself. Hermione couldn't fathom why he would want to, but she supposed it might be because her family _was_ still well connected, even if they had taken in a Mudblood.

But Hermione was still hurt by the Dark Lord. She couldn't forget the way that he'd treated her. "What if I don't _want_ to be soul bonded to you?" she asked snottily. She didn't have anything else to lose, so she wasn't afraid to upset him.

The Dark Lord sighed, obviously conflicted about what he was going to say. "Hermione, I am very sorry that I hurt you," he said.

The look in his dark eyes seemed so sincere that Hermione's resolve immediately began to crumble. She had never considered that the Dark Lord would ever willingly apologize to someone.

"I won't make excuses, but I will make a promise: I promise that I will never hurt you again. And, if anyone should attempt to hurt you, I will bring them unimaginable pain," he said. "I swear it on the noble blood of Salazar Slytherin that runs in my veins."

His oath was so heartfelt and convincing that it activated a second magical oath, as their arms were still connected. Hermione shivered, feeling the strength and truth of his emotions at that moment. He had bared himself completely to her and she knew in her heart that he was _hers_.

"But why me?" she asked, feeling incredibly small compared to his greatness.

"I've already told you that I find you to be an exceptionally powerful witch, and we are well matched in intelligence," he revealed, his eyes dropping from hers. Could it be that the Dark Lord was nervous to open this part of himself up to her? "But I must admit that you stir something inside of me that no other witch has previously."

Hermione felt her cheeks heat up at the suggestion of his words. Before she could formulate a response, though, their little sanctuary was being invaded. The door opened, without a knock, revealing the oldest woman Hermione had ever seen. She was stooped over and very short; Hermione supposed that she hardly reached five feet tall. Her skin was wrinkled and colored like new leather, and she wore the most unusual collection of robes that Hermione had ever seen.

She did not greet them and instead walked over to stare at Hermione. Her green eyes were shockingly clear, giving her an air of youth.

"This is Diellza, my Albanian Healer," the Dark Lord said with a smirk.

The woman gave her a toothless smile, before grabbing Hermione's palm and holding it face up. She fished a dagger out of her pockets and ran the sharp point along Hermione's skin. The metal was an odd reddish color.

The trio watched as small beads of blood welled on the surface of her skin. The woman next produced an ornate silver chalice that looked impossibly shiny. Diellza turned Hermione's hand over and allowed several drops of blood to collect in the cup, only releasing the young witch when she was satisfied.

She stared into the cup for what seemed like an eternity, agitating it once and again. Hermione took a quick moment to heal her hand, not wanting to get blood all over her bed. When she looked up, it was with horror that she realized Diellza had brought the cup to her lips and was drinking her blood!

The woman smiled and gave the pair a little laugh, patting a weathered hand on Hermione's cheek. "I papërzier!" she said, sounding pleased with herself.

The Dark Lord gave Hermione a secret smirk then. "There. Your blood is as pure as mine is," he told her with a little wink.

He spoke to Diellza in Albanian for a few moments, before sending the woman on her way. When she was gone, he called for her house-elf to bring some lunch - her first substantial food in days. She ate it, feeling much better after he had made his oath to her, asking him about his time in Albania all the while.

When she was done, he instructed her to clean up and get dressed before joining him in the library, as they had happy news to share with some people. She was a bit wary of doing his bidding, but she knew that it wasn't an argument she would win.

She had assumed that he was bringing her to see her parents - a conversation that she was not entirely ready to have - so she was surprised to see Bellatrix waiting with him. Hermione quickly realized that her "aunt" was magically restrained and silenced, because as soon as she entered the room, Bellatrix started raving, though no sound could be heard.

"Bellatrix, Hermione and I have asked you here today because we wanted you to be the first to hear the good news," he said with a smirk. "Hermione will still be my bride."

He waved his wand and lifted the silencing spell. Bellatrix looked utterly panicked and wild. "But she is nothing more than a filthy MUDBLOOD!" she shrieked. "They need to be eradicated!"

"While it has always been my aim to bring forth the society that Slytherin himself envisioned, he merely wanted Mudbloods to be removed from Hogwarts," he opined. "He knew that they could not be completely removed from our society. Everyone has their place, Bellatrix - the Mudbloods, the half-bloods, the purebloods, the centaurs, the goblins, the dementors."

"And my place is at his side," Hermione said proudly, secretly enjoying how annoyed her former aunt was at her pronouncement.

Bellatrix looked furious. "You dare to speak to me?" she demanded before turning back to the Dark Lord. "Listen to this filth speak out of turn! How could she ever have a place at your side, my Lord? Are you testing me?"

The Dark Lord chuckled. "Hermione isn't filthy, Bellatrix. Your sister is so adept at blood magic that Hermione's blood is as pure as any Malfoy. I just had a Healer confirm it," he said. While he didn't lie technically, Hermione knew that he didn't really mean it the way Bellatrix expected.

The older witch continued to shriek in anger and frustration that did nothing to move the Dark Lord.

"It actually makes me think...perhaps a similar method could be used to purify other particularly strong Mudblood babies in the future," he mused.

Hermione bristled at the idea. She didn't like the idea of anyone being taken away from their families, even if they were Muggle-born. She didn't want to kowtow to the pureblood ideas that Muggle-borns somehow needed to be purified in the first place, but she knew better than to argue with Voldemort at that moment.

The Dark Lord turned his attention to her. "Hermione, my sweet, Bellatrix is the one who betrayed your family and sought to bring about your demise," he said, making Hermione grin at the way Bellatrix hated the open affection between them. "Do you wish to punish her?"

She shivered at the opportunity, knowing that she would love to hurt her aunt the way that she had been hurt. She wanted revenge on this witch for turning her life upside down. But Hermione had never actually cast an Unforgivable Curse and the thought of her potential failure at casting the Cruciatus Curse made her too nervous to attempt it. "No my Lord, I wouldn't want to dirty the rug," she answered with an upturned nose. "I think the knowledge that we will be together, soul-bonded for eternity, will be sufficient punishment for my aunt."

Bellatrix looked pained, and Hermione wondered if it was from the knowledge that Hermione got what Bellatrix had always wanted, or if it was being called Aunt by a Mudblood.

"Very well," he said with a smile, not pushing Hermione to do something she wasn't comfortable with. "Bellatrix, thank Hermione for your punishment."

Though it obviously rankled, the older witch did eventually grumble out a quiet _thank you_ , her eyes never rising from where Hermione's feet met the carpet.


	14. Chapter 14

It had taken Hermione less time than she expected to warm up to her parents again. Even though she was still hurt that they had kept the truth from her for so long, she understood why they had done it - to protect her. Also, she couldn't deny that they had given her a loving home. She was still a little stiff around them, but she thought it wouldn't take long for things to go back to normal.

Her father seemed even more fragile than he had after Azkaban. Being kept in the dungeon of his own home had clearly taken a toll on him. Hermione hated to see her once stately father reduced to this frail man with haunted eyes. His gleaming blond hair, once a source of pride, was now scraggly and limp, and he never shaved his perpetual beard.

Outwardly, her mother seemed better for wear, but her eyes were also haunted. She remained alert and skittish, unable to relax in her own home after being kept prisoner.

Though they were struggling after being prisoners, their relationship was on the mend, and the biggest thing that rebuilt their relationship was planning Hermione's upcoming wedding. They decided to hold the wedding in late August, even though it was before Hermione's birthday because it meant that Draco and her friends could attend before returning to Hogwarts.

Hermione had been surprised to learn that the Dark Lord insisted that she stay with him and not return to Hogwarts for her seventh year like Draco would. The Dark Lord promised that he would teach her everything that would be on the NEWTs and that he believed in her dedication to self-study. She was glad to be able to learn at her own pace and not be unnecessarily restricted by the rules of Hogwarts.

It would be odd to be apart from her parents. But she was especially sad to be separated from her brother. Even though they had learned that they weren't really siblings, their relationship had only grown deeper. Hermione mused that Draco being so close to losing her only made him love her more.

Today, though, she was being fitted for her wedding robes with just her mother. Everything else was already in place for the wedding, though Hermione still needed her robes to look immaculate. She was marrying the greatest wizard alive, after all.

Hermione had selected white robes to wear for herself. It was unusual in the Wizarding world to wear white, but not unheard of; Narcissa had also worn white at her wedding. Hermione also thought that the white would look nice with the mint green robes that Daphne would wear, as Hermione's attendant.

Slipping into the dress robes she had selected, Hermione looked herself over in the mirror. The dress had little cap sleeves made of lace and was form-fitting all the way to the floor. The cut was modest in the front to cover the scars left behind by Potter, but it had a daring back. Hermione felt tears in her eyes when she looked at her reflection. "Oh, mother, it's perfect," she whispered, pleased with the quick work Narcissa had done.

"Hermione, you look absolutely stunning," Narcissa said, wrapping her daughter in her arms. "It's definitely perfect. You only get to experience this day once, so we have to be sure you do it right," she added indulgently. The thought of giving up her daughter to the Dark Lord made her voice catch in her throat then.

The younger witch smiled at the show of emotion from her mother. "You know, I had always wondered why I was so bad at controlling my emotions, unlike you and father and Draco," Hermione said with a smirk. "I was always so embarrassed to cry. Now I know it's because I am different."

Her mother wiped a tear from Hermione's cheek with her thumb. "Sweet Hermione...I have been trained to push my emotions down since I was a child. If you show your emotions, they can be used against you," she explained. "But certain emotions can make you more powerful, too. I hope you remember that."

Hermione wasn't sure what to make of that, but she would take the advice to heart. Maybe it meant that she didn't need to be frightened of the intense new feelings that were growing for her future husband.

"Well, you should try to get some rest," her mother encouraged. "Tomorrow is your wedding and all eyes will be on you."

* * *

The next morning dawned hazy and warm, a wild breeze working its way through the trees. She could smell rain in the air - a good omen for a wedding.

Hermione sat up in bed and stretched her arms over her head indulgently. Today was the day that she would cease to be Hermione Malfoy and become...well, she didn't know. Would she be called Hermione Voldemort? Lady Voldemort? The idea made her giggle at its absurdity.

She was a bit surprised to realize how little she knew about the Dark Lord's life. She was about to bind her soul to him and she didn't even know how to address him.

Downstairs, she knew that her mother and a team of house-elves were readying the ballroom for the ceremony. It would be small, just her family and a few Death Eaters. Daphne was the only of the Slytherin girls who would be joining, and Hermione expected her to come bursting into the room at any moment to get ready.

Right on cue, Daphne popped into the room, grinning madly. "Oh good! You are already up," she said, her brown hair curled already. The mint green of the dress robes she wore complimented the light green of her eyes. "We need to start getting you ready."

Hermione groaned, but pulled herself out of bed and walked into the bathroom to shower. Once she was squeaky clean, she wrapped a robe around herself and submitted herself to Daphne's talented hands to work on her hair. A bit of Sleekeazy potion and some much-needed patience from Daphne transformed Hermione's wild hair into something wavy and sexy.

"Hermione, did you know that the Minister of Magic is going to perform your soul bonding?" Daphne asked, excitement bubbling in her voice. "Isn't that terribly exciting?"

She nodded in agreement. Scrimgeour had finally been _dealt with_ that summer and he'd been replaced with the more suitable Pius Thicknesse. It was impressive to have such a high ranking official at her wedding _and_ officiating, but she expected nothing less for the Dark Lord. "Yes, I am very happy, Daphne. Though I'm dying to hear about the gossip from the summer... I haven't been able to talk to anyone!" Hermione complained.

Daphne was only too eager to tell her everything she knew. Theo Nott had formally started courting her and she expected a proposal before Christmas, which she was very excited about. Hermione was happy for her friend. "But you'll never guess! Mr. Nott has petitioned the Parkinsons for Pansy's hand! Can you imagine?" Daphne asked, sounding giddy and scandalized. "He's so _old_ and she'll be my mother-in-law!"

Hermione sniggered at Pansy's misfortune. She couldn't imagine the horror that it would be and told Daphne the same. "Well, he's probably her best option. Draco is never going to marry her, so she might as well give it up now. Plus, who knows how much longer Mr. Nott will be alive? Then she could at least get an inheritance," Hermione said.

Her friend nodded. "Yes, though Theo will still get the majority share, he told me," she said. "And we won't have to live with them either. Done!" Daphne announced proudly, putting down her wand to show Hermione her finished makeup look. Hermione was thoroughly pleased with the result - it was subtle and highlighted her best features. She was glowing in delight.

"Let's get your dress on," Daphne encouraged, helping Hermione to step into the white fabric and then doing up the little buttons on the back.

Hermione turned around to face her friend to show off the final look.

"Oh Hermione," Daphne gushed. "You look amazing! I think we should go down now."

The nerves were starting to kick in, so Hermione dumbly followed Daphne down the stairs to the ballroom where her family was waiting. Bellatrix was there, sandwiched between Rabastan and Rodolphus, but Hermione could tell that it was not by choice. She also caught sight of Dolohov, Yaxley, Avery, and Mr. Nott, though not Fenrir or Professor Snape. She found that a bit odd, but didn't dwell on it.

Her father was waiting for her and gave her a tight squeeze and a kiss on both cheeks. Hermione was disappointed that he hadn't bothered to clean up much for the day, still looking tired and unkempt. She worried about him.

Draco hugged her next, nearly squeezing all the air out of her lungs. Her brother seemed to realize that their close bond would soon be coming to an end as she welcomed a husband into her life.

Her mother didn't approach her but was smiling brightly. She had tears in her eyes and a crumpled handkerchief in her fist.

But then, it was time for the ceremony to begin. Hermione walked to stand next to Lord Voldemort. She thought he looked handsome in his tailored dark green robes. His fair was perfectly styled and his dark eyes were filled with amusement at the pomp of the afternoon. His skin seemed a bit waxier than usual, which worried Hermione. Was he coming down with dragon pox? Or had he indulged in too much alcohol the night before?

Minister Thicknesse cleared his throat to start the ceremony, getting everyone to quiet down. The Minister said a few words, but nothing flowery about love. Instead, he focused on the importance of advancing Wizarding society in the _right_ ways and completing your individual duties. Honestly, Hermione didn't think she heard any of what was said, too nervous to listen over the rushing of blood in her ears.

Finally, he handed them both the ceremonial knife, and Hermione and the Dark Lord each pricked their left palms, watching red blood to pool. She then grasped his hand in hers, allowing the blood to mingle between them. The Minister took a piece of thin silver metal thread and tied it around their joined hands. "If you would like to make a vow to one another, now is the time," he instructed.

The Dark Lord placed a _Muffliato_ spell around them, not wanting such a vulnerable moment to be shared with everyone.

"Hermione, if anyone should hurt you, I swear I will destroy them. If you need or want anything at all, I will give it to you," he vowed. "The only thing that I ask in return is that you support me, respect me, and trust me. The future will be difficult; wars will be raged, but I will protect you."

She was pleased to hear him reaffirm his previous vow to her. She wasn't sure why, but it was clear that he cared for her safety and wellbeing, which she was glad to hear. He was very rough around the edges and dangerous, of course, but not with her.

Her heart swelled with pride and love. She couldn't believe that she had the interest of the greatest wizard alive. "My Lord, you have seen me at my lowest points, have witnessed my failures, and yet you continue to believe in me," she said with a coy smile, trying to convey all the feelings she harbored for him, even if he couldn't comprehend it. "I promise to serve you with all of my intelligence, power, and devotion. I will respect, trust, support, and _love_ you."

He gave her a brief smile before lifting the spell and facing the Minister once again. "Proceed," he commanded.

The Minister lifted his wand and began reciting an old spell from the time of Merlin to join them together. The silver thread grew very hot, glowing white, facilitating the joining of their two souls. Feeling their souls mingling together took Hermione's breath away. She knew that her husband was powerful, but to actually _feel_ his immense power coursing through her body was amazing. She was just barely able to contain it.

Their souls seemed to do well together, joining quite easily. Hermione had never felt anything like it before. Once the bond was complete, she could feel his power begin to recede, like waves returning to the sea. Hermione looked down to where their hands were still clasped, surprised to see that the metal thread was gone, two silver rings left in their place, unable to be removed. Hermione smiled at the Dark Lord, waiting a few beats before releasing his hand.

Then, the ceremony was over.

Her mother, ever the consummate hostess, was standing up to direct their guests. "If you would be so kind to join us in the dining room, we have a meal prepared," she announced, her bell-like voice clear in the room.

The Dark Lord pressed his hand on her lower back to guide her, causing a shiver to race up and down her spine in a pleasurable way. He walked with her to the dining room, where they took the seats at the head of the table.

Draco sat next to her, with Daphne on his other side. The vivacious girl was entirely too comfortable being there. Hermione loved her friend's flamboyance and frivolous attitude, even as she sat grilling her future father-in-law about his plans to marry Pansy Parkinson.

"Will this be your third wife or your fourth, Nott?" Dolohov quipped, earning a big laugh from the table.

Hermione smiled, but her heart was heavy. She knew that it would be a long time before she could be this carefree and playful again, now that the war was intensifying. It was imperative that they won, so that they could make more happy memories.

The dinner passed without incident. The Dark Lord spoke with her father quietly and occasionally with Hermione. She busied herself with Draco and Daphne, knowing that it might be a long time before they could speak again, with them returning to Hogwarts in less than a week.

When it was time for them to leave, her husband took her by the arm and guided her to the Floo after saying their goodbyes. Hermione was leaving behind her childhood and being welcomed to her new home. To her future.


	15. Chapter 15

When Hermione and her new husband stepped through the Floo, the room that welcomed them was dark and dreary. Hermione looked around and deduced that they were in a library, full of outdated furniture, some of it even broken.

"This belonged to my father, but I haven't changed anything except the master suite, where I spend my time," the Dark Lord said, perhaps feeling slightly self-conscious about the accommodations. "You may change anything you wish."

Hermione nodded. Even though she was used to a more luxurious home, that did not mean that she wasn't afraid of a little hard work. She would have to learn some interior decorating spells to leave her mark on her new home. Perhaps she would get a book on it next week, or write to her mother.

Hermione listened to the rain pounding on the roof. It was soothing and helped to lessen the weight of the silence between her and the Dark Lord. She wasn't sure what he wanted her to do.

"I will show you to the bedroom," he murmured.

Hermione realized that this was the first time that she was completely and totally alone with the Dark Lord. Thinking about it made her belly twist in anticipation and shivers race down her spine. She was _excited_ for what came next, but also nervous. What if she did something wrong?

The Dark Lord led the way out of the library and down the hall to the master suite. The bedroom was absolutely gorgeous compared to the rest of the decrepit house, making Hermione gasp in surprise. In the massive fireplace, there was a warm, cheery fire burning away, giving a warm glow to the room. Two green armchairs, a table, and a plush fur rug in front of the fireplace comprised a small sitting area.

On the far side of the room, there was a huge window overlooking the grounds. She also caught sight of a walk-in closet with all of her clothes and robes hanging neatly. A bathroom was visible through another door, which Hermione was sure was as fabulous as everything else she'd seen so far.

But the main focal point of the room was the large bed opposite the fireplace. It looked comfortable and inviting with a soft duvet on top. Hermione noted that there was a nightstand on either side of it, with some of her books already on top of one.

"It's perfect. I love it," Hermione said softly, pleased to see that he'd taken the time to have some of her things moved in so she would be more comfortable.

She turned around only to see her _husband_ looking at her. His dark eyes seemed to have that reddish, intense hue that they sometimes had when he was angry. Only, Hermione knew that he definitely was _not_ angry.

Hermione couldn't deny that she was excited that _she_ was able to arouse the interest of the most powerful wizard on the planet. Feeling uncharacteristically bold, she turned around and pulled her hair over one shoulder. Looking back at him, she asked for help with her dress. "Could you help me undo my dress? I know it looks like a lot of buttons, but it didn't take Daphne that long," she said.

After a brief pause, she felt his fingers trail down her bare back until they met the top of her dress. Oh Salazar, his fingers! Hermione would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about his long fingers and what they could do. She could feel her body reacting, nipples stiffening to firm peaks, as he exposed more and more of her body. She couldn't stop the shiver that raced through her body.

"Nervous?" she heard him ask, his voice a low rumble.

"A little," Hermione admitted. "I've never done this before. Obviously."

It would have been quite the scandal if she had been intimate with a wizard, given the importance purebloods placed on virginity. Even though Hermione had thought it was a bit odd, she hadn't dared go against her parents' expectations.

Deciding to continue being bold, Hermione reached for the straps of her dress and pulled them down her arms. She pushed the material of her dress down over her hips before stepping out of the gown, fighting the blush on her cheek all the while. "No one has ever seen me like this either," she told him, hoping that he would use the same gentle instructive approach that he'd previously given her in demonstrations of magic. She hoped that he didn't find her innocence annoying or get frustrated if she did something wrong.

"Just don't think about anything," he told her, his voice just louder than a whisper as he drank in the curves of her body. He was not shy about the way he appreciated her appearance.

He closed the distance between them and let his fingers tangle in her bedroom hair. His other hand cupped her jaw before delicately turning her face up to look at him. The Dark Lord stared into her eyes for a long moment before pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

Hermione gasped at the feeling, pleased to have him take control of the situation. He'd barely touched her and already her mind was spinning with desire. The Dark Lord was not quite content to only kiss her lips and soon tilted her head back further so he could pepper her neck with kisses. His mouth sucked against her pulse point, leaving a little red bruise as a reminder of their intimacy.

Her body felt full of potential energy, just aching to be released. If he only kissed her, she thought she might just burst with want. Bringing her hands up to the front of his robes, Hermione quickly worked to undo the buttons that held them in place. Pushing back the fabric, she couldn't wait to see him revealed.

While she'd always found the Dark Lord handsome, with his thick dark hair and fine features, she was quite taken with his body as well. Pale and strong, it was odd to see him in such a vulnerable state. He was so smart and powerful, it was almost wrong to desire him for his physical form as well, but she couldn't help herself.

The Dark Lord walked her backward until Hermione felt her legs hit the bed. She sat down abruptly, scrambling back to make room for him. With a gentle press at her shoulders, Hermione let herself lay back across the pillows. She was desperate for another kiss, but instead, his attention was on her body. His large hand palmed one of her breasts, her nipples tightening under the feeling. Dipping his head, he pressed his mouth to her other breast.

"That feels..." Hermione trailed off, too swept up by the feeling. It was hard not to get into her head and think about what she _should_ be doing, but she tried to take her husband's advice and not think of anything and just feel. Her insides felt like they were molten, and she pressed her thighs together tightly to relieve the ache that she felt between her legs.

His hand slid down her body, leaving a trail of goose flesh in its wake. He stopped at the top of her knickers, catching the fabric and pulling them down her body. Eager to see what would happen next, Hermione lifted her hips and kicked them off to some corner of the room.

The Dark Lord looked up and smirked at her naughtily. If anything, he was quite pleased with her enthusiastic response. He shifted his body until he was resting between her legs. When Hermione felt him, his cock seeming impossibly hard, she couldn't stop the gasp of surprise.

Intent on distracting her, the Dark Lord kissed her again. Hermione eagerly opened her mouth so her tongue could tangle with his. Sighing, she didn't even tense when she felt his fingers slip along the seam of her sex to the little button at the top. His thumb began to circle that point - that point that seemed to be the center of her whole being - in tight circles before one of his long fingers entered her.

"Oh Merlin!" she moaned, thinking that she had never felt _anything_ as sinfully good as this before.

He pressed his lips against her ear. "That's not my name," he teased, catching her earlobe in a playful nip.

She was not surprised at his insistence that his title be used, so she was sure to call him by his name the next time she felt compelled to cry out. He was gifting her with such exquisite pleasure that it only seemed fair. Hermione felt her body to an impossible point, pushing towards a precipice that seemed to assure her demise. But the Dark Lord wouldn't let up and she was eventually pushed over the edge into the white-hot oblivion of release. "Voldemort!" she cried as she held onto him.

He gave her time to recover from her experience, waiting for her to come back into her body. When she did, she looked up and smiled at him. "Oh, I'd very much like to do that again," she whispered, a little embarrassed by her request. Was that too forward of her?

Apparently, her husband did not think so. Instead, he was taking hold of his cock and settling it against her to position himself at her entrance and slowly began to push into her, giving Hermione plenty of time to adjust to his size. After what seemed like an eternity, he was seated within her and she had relaxed enough to continue. She felt so full, so complete with her husband staring into her eyes.

When nothing else happened, Hermione knew that she needed to do _something_. "I-I don't know what to do now," she revealed, feeling her cheeks go hot in embarrassment.

"Don't worry," he reassured her, pulling back slightly before surging forward again. "I will show you."

The shallow thrusts soon had Hermione gasping in delight. She didn't think that anything could feel as good as this. Sex was nothing like the horror stories that were passed around amongst the pureblood girls in Slytherin. Perhaps mothers knew that girls would do this all the time if they knew what it was really like. Or maybe she had some sort of special connection with the Dark Lord.

With his hands at her hips, the Dark Lord was encouraging Hermione to move her hips, and before long, she was rocking in time with him. Hermione could feel that telltale tightening in her core slowly but surely building, pushing her closer to the edge. The look on the Dark Lord's own face seemed to suggest that he was chasing the same feeling.

Again, Hermione was filled with an intense sense of pride at making such a powerful wizard come undone.

Their movements were growing more uncoordinated and faster. Hermione was sure that she would go crazy now if she didn't reach that peak. Holding onto her husband, her blunt nails pressed into his arms and she distantly hoped he didn't mind. She was close, _so close_!

And then finally, she found completion once again. It felt different with something inside of her and she could feel her body tightening around him. That seemed to send Voldemort over the edge as well because, after just one or two more thrusts, he was groaning into her ear, his body still and rigid on top of her.

He only remained on top of her long enough to catch his breath. Then, he rolled over and pulled her tight to his body, spooning her. A wave of his hand had the blankets pulled up and over them. "Now the soul bonding is complete," he told her.

Hermione could _feel_ that they were closer now than they had been before. Their souls accepted each other and bonded completely, so much so that they could never be split again. It made her feel safe and _loved_ , even though she couldn't be sure that the Dark Lord loved her.

That was a thought for another day, Hermione decided. Her eyelids were growing far too heavy to fight, making her drift off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione woke to the sound of rain still pounding on the glass panes of the bedroom window. Reaching next to her, Hermione was disappointed to be met by cold, empty sheets. Obviously, Voldemort had been gone for some time.

She sat up and stretched, feeling the soreness between her legs, but relishing the pain as it was a reminder of how good she'd felt the night before. Hermione looked around the room, only to scream when she saw beady black eyes staring up at her from the floor. Placing a hand over her heart, she tried to calm its frenetic beating once she realized that it was Voldemort's familiar.

"Nagini! You frightened me," she scolded the large snake, hoping that she wouldn't take offense. Hermione had never been formally introduced to the serpent. "I suppose my husband asked you to watch over me today?"

The snake's tongue flickered out at her as if in agreement.

Hermione stood from the bed, not bothered by being naked in front of Nagini. Deciding that she would take a shower before getting ready for the day, Hermione walked into the bathroom. Nagini followed behind her silently, coiling herself on the edge of the tub once Hermione had stepped into the steamy shower.

"I suppose you like the warmth, huh?" Hermione asked the snake, not expecting a response.

Once she was done with her shower, she got dressed and fixed her hair. Feeling her stomach grumble, Hermione looked to her silent companion. "I don't suppose you know where I could get some food?" she asked.

Nagini flicked her tongue at Hermione again.

Before the witch could come up with a plan, a house-elf popped into the room. "Muffet! What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, surprised to see her old house-elf. Not to mention she was still sore at Muffet for taking her into the dungeons at Malfoy Manor.

"Mistress said I should be helping the young Miss in making her new home. How can I assist you?" the diminutive house-elf asked.

"Well, I would love a spot of breakfast. Just an egg and some toast," Hermione told her. "Oh, and a pot of tea!"

"Of course Miss, right away," Muffet agreed.

Hermione smiled, glad to have at least one familiar face. "Muffet, please bring it to the library when it's ready," she instructed.

Upon hearing her intention to go to the library, Nagini led the way down the long hallway. Hermione entered the dusty old room and lit the fireplace and the various candles around the room to give it a bit more light. Curious about an odd switch on the wall, Hermione was amazed when the room was illuminated in artificial light. She supposed this must be some Muggle technology - after all, her husband said he'd inherited from his father, a Muggle.

There were an incredible amount of books, to Hermione's delight. She was sure she could read for a year and not even make a dent. But the books were where the room's beauty ended. All of the furniture was broken, save an armchair near the fireplace.

Sighing, Hermione quickly found _Hogwarts, A History_ and settled down to eat her breakfast in the armchair. Once her plate had been taken away by Muffet, she decided that the library would be the first room in her new home that she would repair.

She spent the whole day working, but finally, the library was repaired to her satisfaction. The hardwood floors were polished and gleaming, the heavy curtains framing the two large windows were dusted and pulled back. She'd also repaired all the furniture and lovingly dusted the bookcases. She was most proud of the large Slytherin rug that now spanned the center of the room.

It was only once she realized that she hadn't seen or heard from the Dark Lord all day that Hermione began to grow a bit concerned. It seemed that he had left the manor. Knowing that she could do nothing but wait for him, she settled into the green wingback chair by the fire and read about decorating spells.

Nagini settled across her lap without invitation. Hermione was surprised by the weight of the large snake but knew that Nagini would never hurt her. Instead, she playfully butted her head into Hermione's unoccupied hand, as if asking to be pet. If Hermione got distracted and stopped petting for a few minutes, Nagini would affectionately nip her hand without breaking the skin, like an overgrown cat.

The moon was out by the time her husband finally returned, Apparating directly into the library. He was soaking wet and covered in mud. Hermione looked him up and down. What could he possibly have been up to all day?

" _Scourgify_ ," she said, cleaning him of his mess.

"I see you've repaired the library," he said, observing the room.

"Yes, my Lord. I figured it prudent, as this is likely where I will be spending most of my time," she answered, setting her book down. "Are you going to tell me what you were up to all day?" she asked, hoping that she didn't come off as accusatory.

"I had a quest to complete," he said cryptically. "I needed to get something of mine."

"And I take it you were successful?" Hermione asked casually, even though she was dying to know what it was that he'd retrieved.

Luckily for her, he was happy to share. "Oh yes, very successful," he said before reaching into his pocket to pull out a horribly mangled ring with a geometric black stone at its center.


	16. Chapter 16

The weeks passed more slowly than Hermione had anticipated, her life perpetually tinged with boredom. She rarely saw her husband, as he would leave for long stretches of time - sometimes for days on end. When he was home, he would always come to bed after she was already asleep and be up before she woke up in the morning. The only sign that he had even been there was the rumpled sheets on his side of the bed.

During the day, she was meant to complete little assignments he set for her, or read passages he'd marked in huge, dusty tomes. Occasionally, she had a potion to brew. While Hermione knew that it was a huge honor to be learning under the Dark Lord's tutelage, she had imagined that it would be a little more hands-on. She was a very motivated student who did well at her own pace, but she _wanted_ to spend time with him.

Already, her favorite times were when they spent the afternoons in her renovated library, discussing what she'd learned or debating various arcane theories.

Hermione often finished her work early, though, so any spare time she'd had was funneled into fixing up the vast manor house. It was now completely repaired from top to bottom, leaving Hermione with a lot of curiosity. It was so large that Hermione figured the Dark Lord's father must have been a wealthy Muggle. One afternoon, she'd even found a large painting of the Dark Lord's father and grandparents, but it had been slashed to pieces. After repairing it, she was shocked to see that her husband was nearly an exact replica of his father. Knowing that he had likely destroyed it himself, Hermione hid it in the attic where he wouldn't stumble upon it.

The library held the most information about Lord Voldemort. She loved poring over his notes about immortality, his journals from his travels across Europe, and his experiments. She even found a photograph of a little cabin in a dense forest. The back of the photograph had a note that told her it had been taken in Albania.

So, it was on a chilly November evening that found Hermione curled up in the library in front of the fire, reading one of his journals. He had just left England after being denied the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He'd worked a short while at Borgin and Burke's before spending time in Eastern Europe.

It was when the Dark Lord was living in Albania, learning from the Dark creatures of the forest, that he learned about Nicholas Flamel. Hermione felt such an empathetic rush of joy when he pieced together that Flamel had _created_ the philosopher's stone, not discovered it. The implications of it were immense.

She was startled out of her musings when the fireplace flashed green, her husband stepping out of the hearth with his robes swirling around him. His eyes immediately found her. "What are you doing up so late?" he asked, his voice smooth and tantalizing.

Hermione could feel her cheeks turn pink, as if she was a naughty witch caught doing something horrible. She thought about hiding what she'd been reading, wondering if he would see it as a breach of trust, before deciding to just tell him. He would see through her lies immediately. Also, there was nothing wrong with wanting to know more about her own husband.

"Reading about the philosopher's stone," she said, lifting his journal.

It seemed that he recognized the fluid handwriting immediately. He sat down next to her, a bit of shock on his face. "Where did you find this?" he asked.

"It was here in the library," she told him honestly. "I've read it several times now."

He pursed his lips. "What about my journal has so caught your attention?" he asked.

She bit her lower lip. "I wanted to know more about you. Sometimes, I feel as though I scarcely know you at all...for example, I don't even know what my own last name is now," she explained. She wouldn't feel bad for her curiosity. "Am I...Hermione Voldemort now?"

He gave her a smile before giving her thigh a little squeeze. "Lord Voldemort is an assumed name, of course. Legally, I am Tom Riddle," he revealed with a sigh. "So I suppose that would make you Hermione Riddle now."

Hermione felt absolutely buoyed with the knowledge of his _true_ name. She smiled at him. "Tom," she said affectionately. It suited him, she thought.

Her husband looked somewhat surprised by her reaction to his given name. "I will require you to forget my filthy Muggle father's name. I wish to only be called Voldemort," he said. "It pains me to know that you will be further burdened by the name Riddle."

She still couldn't lose the goofy grin that she wore. "Of course, my Lord," she agreed.

"Now, is there...anything else you wish to know?" he asked indulgently. This was the most affection he'd shown her since they had consummated their vows.

Hermione pulled out the picture of the cabin and handed it to him before resting her head on his shoulder. "Yes, tell me more about your time in Albania," she insisted.

"Well, I came into possession of that cabin and I lived there for several years while traveling the Balkans," he explained. "I had already been to Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Hungary, Czechoslovakia. It was nice, secluded, near a little stream."

"It sounds lovely," Hermione said, wondering if he would ever take her there.

He took the photograph from her. "The first night I was there, the dark creatures of the forest came looking for me, once they sensed my power."

"Of course, you must have had the strongest magical signature that they had sensed in years," she complimented him.

"There were limax and goblins and werewolves. I met with a particularly savage band of centaurs," he told her, playing with the ends of her wavy hair. "The creatures I was most interested in were the vampires. It took a lot of work to get them to speak with me, but they proved to be invaluable allies."

Hermione was so happy that he was finally opening up a bit more about his life, and she was content to sit there the whole night, listening to him speak quietly. But soon, the soft rumble of the Dark Lord's voice became too soothing, and Hermione could feel her eyes drifting shut.

* * *

A few more weeks in Riddle Manor and December arrived, leaving Hermione nearly mad with loneliness. At first, she had enjoyed the solitude, and she'd felt special not returning to Hogwarts. But now, she needed a little bit of companionship. She had been writing to Draco almost every day, but his letters did not come as frequently. He often reported on the state of Hogwarts, which constantly changed. Apparently, the Carrow twins had taken corporal punishment too far and Headmaster Snape didn't care.

She was eating breakfast alone in the little dining room (as opposed to the _grand_ dining room), when Draco's owl appeared at the window, knocking its beak against the glass. Hermione hurried over and let the poor bird in, shivering when a swirl of snow managed its way into the warm room. The owl held out its leg and allowed Hermione to remove the parchment.

As she sat back down at the table, she picked up her knife and pricked her finger. A drop of blood came to the surface and she pressed it against the seal, opening the letter. Hermione healed herself and handed the owl a piece of forgotten crust.

From her spot on the floor, Nagini was eyeing the owl with a hungry look. "Nagini," Hermione scolded. "This is not a snack for you. Isn't there some rodent you can hunt?"

Nagini looked at her with her large yellow eyes, annoyed that she would have to work for her meal today.

Hermione eagerly pored over Draco's words. He was busy preparing for his midterm exams but felt like he was the only one taking it seriously. He wrote that the mood at Hogwarts was somber because Headmaster Snape hadn't allowed any decorations. He was looking forward to seeing her over winter break and hoped that she would visit Malfoy Manor.

She smiled at his words, thinking that it would be lovely to return home for the holidays. She had spent so much time with her brother, and it was odd not to see him for so long.

Her smile fell when she read his last paragraph, wherein he revealed that he would be receiving the Dark Mark over the break, and wondering if she would be there for the ceremony. Hermione could feel her blood boiling. How could her husband fail to mention that?

Pushing her plate away, Hermione stood up and stormed up the stairs to the library where she figured she would find him. He'd been spending time there frequently, translating a large book written in High Runic. The Dark Lord didn't even look up from his work when she entered the room.

Hermione took a deep breath before shoving the parchment into his line of vision. "Care to explain this?" she asked.

He read over the letter, and after a few seconds, looked up at her. "I fail to see what I should have to explain," he said, eyes narrowed. "If anything, I should be asking you how you and your brother could be so stupid as to owl such secretive information when it could be easily intercepted."

Hermione sat next to him. "Don't worry, your fears are unfounded. Draco developed a special seal that can only be opened by applying a drop of Malfoy blood. It would appear that my mother is not the only Malfoy adept at blood magic," she said, triumphantly smirking at him when he seemed genuinely surprised at the cleverness of Draco's work. "I mean...how could you not tell me that Draco was going to be taking the Mark this Yule?"

The Dark Lord's eyebrows knitted together, and Hermione could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. "It's the natural progression for him, especially with Dumbledore gone and Snape in his place," he said. "No one at Hogwarts will turn him in if it's spotted. Draco has proved himself admirably these past two years."

Hermione agreed with him on that - yes, Draco deserved the honor. But...didn't she as well? She tried to think about how to express herself before growing impatient and blurting it out. "But what about _me_? Haven't I proved myself to be worthy?" she asked. "Why haven't you given me the Dark Mark yet?"

He blinked at her once, processing her words. Then he laughed at her. "Oh Hermione, my sweet. The reason I created the Dark Mark was to mark my followers so that I could call them at will," he explained. "Our soul bonding does that much better than any mark could. I feel you constantly and can sense your most extreme emotions. I could use our bond to Apparate to you at will."

Hermione absorbed his words, admitting to herself that it did make sense. "But, what about marking me as your follower?" she questioned. "I want people to know that I support you."

He reached down and grabbed her left hand, holding it between them. His fingers traced around the thin silver band on her finger. "I think this does that and it can never be removed. Now look," he said, pulling back his sleeve. "I do not wear a Mark either. Why should you, the closest thing I have to an equal, where one? Besides, it's much too ugly to mar the skin of a woman as beautiful as you."

Hermione's cheeks became pink at the compliment. Oh, he made her feel warm from her head to her toes. He bent forward to press a kiss to her lips. It was brief but left her lips tingling nonetheless.

"Now, enough foolishness. Would you like to assist me with this document?" he asked.

She nodded. "Very much, my L-my husband," she replied, scooting her chair closer to him.


	17. Chapter 17

With the Yule holiday drawing closer, Hermione had taken to visiting Malfoy Manor more frequently. She was happy to help her mother prepare for Draco's return and the various parties that she would be hosting throughout the holidays.

But she always returned to the Dark Lord's home at the end of the day. She often chose to use the Apparition point in the little town near Riddle Manor so she could walk home and get a bit of fresh air.

The town was a sleepy little Muggle town with a decimated magical population. At one point it must have been large enough to warrant an Apparition point, though Hermione was sure she was the only person using it now.

Walking back to her home, she increased her speed to get out of the cold night as soon as possible, the snow crunching under her boots and swirling in the wind. She was pleased to have a warming charm on her cloak and boots.

Though she knew she shouldn't, Hermione enjoyed walking through the Muggle town. It was quaint and all the homes were glowing with light, puffs of smoke coming out of their chimneys. The little church often had carolers singing. Although Hermione didn't recognize any of them, she still enjoyed listening.

Despite the cold biting at her nose and ears, Hermione stopped to listen for a while, staring at the stained glass windows. She could hear the soft crunching of boots walking towards her, but she didn't turn to look until the walking stopped next to her. She looked up.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Lady Snakeface," a cruel voice said. She would recognize Ron Weasley's voice anywhere.

"Weasley, Potter," she answered curtly, drawing her wand and pointing it at the duo.

Weasley's face was contorted in an evil grin. "Can't believe you had to marry You-Know-Who. What, didn't anyone else want you?" he asked.

Hermione vaguely wondered how they knew that she had married the Dark Lord. She knew what an honor it was to be married to him, so Weasley's words didn't bother her. "Jealous Weasley?" she goaded him.

His nostrils flared in anger. "I think I am going to enjoy hurting you, Malfoy," he threatened.

She could feel her heart skip a beat in fear. This _wasn't_ just a practice duel in Defense Against the Dark Arts; this was a full-on, real duel with two adult wizards. Death was a reasonable outcome if something went wrong.

Trying to remember everything she'd learned, she let her fear take over, allowing her to become hyper-aware of all of her opponents' movements. She was scared, but this time she wasn't going to hold back. No jinx or hex was off-limits. The last time she'd dueled with Potter, he'd nearly killed her, but he'd also been horrified at the thought. That wouldn't be a problem for Hermione.

" _Sectumsempra!"_

A jolt of green light left the tip of Weasley's wand, but Hermione was prepared, quickly throwing up a shield. The curse bounded away and sliced a tree branch behind her.

So far, Potter hadn't moved a hair. It seemed that it was only Weasley who wanted to duel her. He sent a barrage of spells at her in quick succession, but he announced the spell every time. He hadn't practiced any wordless magic. " _Diffindo! Incendio! Impedimenta!"_

Hermione calmly blocked all three and sent a stinging hex in return. Then, she volleyed a silent _Impedimenta_ of her own.

When the redhead fell, Potter unfroze. " _Finite!"_ he called, ending the spell. Weasley hopped back up to his feet and then he and Potter began to work in tandem, sending jinxes and curses her way.

Hermione could feel her heart beating faster the longer the duel went on, quickly tiring at having to face two people at once. She wasn't able to block all of their spells, even though she was desperately trying. A _Diffindo_ caught her on the shoulder and she could feel the stickiness of her blood against her jacket. She needed to defeat one of them.

Weasley smiled as another _Diffindo_ hit her in the same spot and she winced.

She set her jaw. She wasn't going to let him see how much it hurt, but in reality, her arm was aching and she was getting tired of dodging curse after curse. Finally, gathering her strength, she aimed a particularly dark curse at Weasley, one she'd learned from Dolohov over the summer. If she executed it correctly, he would be sidelined for several weeks or even months. She smirked when it hit her target, Weasley falling to the ground, unmoving.

When she turned back to face Potter, he was already halfway through the next curse and she had no time to protect herself. Bracing for whatever weak-minded spell he was going to cast, Hermione was surprised when the Dark Lord appeared at her side, casting the Killing Curse with surprising quickness.

Hermione watched in surprise as the green curse collided with Potter's _Expelliarmus_. The red and green met in the middle, creating a white-hot ball of energy, power, and magic crackling off of it. The pair remained locked in a standoff for what seemed like an eternity, neither spell able to make headway.

Eventually, she heard pops of Apparition and quickly recognized them as Aurors, likely there to arrest whoever had decided to perform magic in front of Muggles. She pulled at her husband's robe, alerting him to their company.

The Dark Lord and Potter ended their spells simultaneously, seeming to realize that they both needed to leave. She watched as Potter scurried to Weasley's side and Apparated away with him. A brief moment later, she also felt the telltale pull of Apparition as her husband took her home.

When she opened her eyes, they were standing in their bedroom.

The Dark Lord grabbed her by her bad shoulder and spun her to face him. She could barely hold back a hiss from the sharp pain that radiated down her arm.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You could have been killed!" he hissed at her. The Dark Lord's eyes were tinged with that dangerous red color, letting Hermione know just how furious he was.

But she was not apologetic. "They challenged me! They came out of nowhere and ambushed me...what was I supposed to do? Turn tail and hide?" she counted, annoyed that he would think so little of her. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself - I was about to finish Potter off, just like I did Weasley."

He snapped his mouth shut, holding back whatever it was he wanted to say. He could not put his thoughts into words and instead let out a frustrated huff. He pulled her towards him, dipping his head so their lips could meet. She could feel his teeth press up against her lips so hard that she was sure she tasted blood. Opening up to him, she sighed when his tongue slipped against hers.

Pressed flush against him, Hermione could feel the way his body was reacting to her and a moan escaped her. She had wanted a repeat of their wedding night since it had happened, but he hadn't sought her out. Hermione had wondered if he even thought of her that way, or if he'd only done it to complete the bonding. But now she could tell he wanted her just as much as she desired him.

Her robe suddenly felt too hot, so she removed the clasp, letting it drop at her feet. Stepping over it, she pulled her husband towards the bed. Even as they tumbled down, she pulled at his clothes, never breaking their kiss.

His own greedy hands were pulling up her skirts and pulling down her knickers, settling between her legs. It was as if something had snapped in him and now that they'd decided to go forward, there was no stopping him.

Hermione was surprised by how much she wanted him - she felt like she just might die if she didn't have him. Her center felt hot and slick, readily accommodating him when he finally entered her. She couldn't stop her moaning, completely consumed by his quick pace, wanting nothing more than to come undone like she had before.

The Dark Lord seemed to know exactly what she needed, positioning her body so that every thrust pushed her just a little closer to the edge. And when his hands found the spot at the top of her sex, Hermione begged him not to stop. In a flash, Hermione found herself coming and pulling him along with her.

She enjoyed the feeling of his body on top of hers but he moved to lay on his back before his weight suffocated her. With a great sigh, he pulled her towards him, her head resting on his chest, where she could hear his heart rapidly beating. His arm wrapped around her shoulder and, like a magnet, found the deep wound on her shoulder, making Hermione hiss in pain.

Her husband removed his hand and found it red with blood. Sitting up abruptly, he cast a _Divesto_ to remove her blouse, examining the wound. He looked concerned. "You are injured," he said, his brow creased in concern. "I wouldn't have ... if I'd known you were in pain."

Hermione smiled softly, seeing how worried he was. "I didn't even feel it, I wanted you so badly," she revealed, surprised by the way she'd been overcome by her desire, hoping he wouldn't consider her wanton.

He didn't comment and instead grabbed his wand, cleaning the wound before healing it. His magic was gentle and caressing, sending a shiver up her spine.

Even though he hadn't said it, Hermione was beginning to see that he loved her. She thought it might be possible that he hadn't recognized it either. Still, she was glad to know that she held a special spot in his heart.

"Thank you, my love," she murmured with a blush, wondering if he had registered her new endearment.

* * *

Hermione had been excited to see Draco the moment he returned from Hogwarts. But he'd had his initiation ceremony almost immediately upon his return, and Hermione had not been allowed to attend. She was still irked about it, but she enjoyed spending the night with her mother instead.

Draco looked paler than usual after the ceremony. Hermione had eagerly asked her brother to see the Dark Mark. He had pulled back his sleeve, and Hermione had been in awe of the extreme contrast of the Mark's inky blackness and the white of his skin. She found it beautiful, but Draco did not share the sentiment, recoiling when he looked at it.

That was the first indication that the holiday with her family would not be what she expected it to be. Hermione had imagined it would be like every holiday they'd had before, especially since the Dark Lord declined to attend. Instead, she felt very odd to be at home. Her family was very sullen, seemingly under an immense pressure that would make them crack at any moment. Hermione could not fathom what the cause of that pressure would be, and no matter how often she pressed, none of them admitted to anything.

Sitting around their large dining table on Yule night, Hermione dutifully answered her father's quiet questions. Despite being home many months now, he still looked incredibly thin. If anything, Hermione was worried that he'd lost even more weight since Azkaban, his cheeks sunken in and a permanent five o'clock shadow gracing his jaw. Gone was her regal father and in his place was the scruffy, dirty facsimile of a man.

"Is he teaching you many things, Hermione?" he asked her. "I don't want your education to suffer."

Hermione enthusiastically launched into all of the wonderful topics she was learning, from Potions to Artithmancy to Magical History and Runes. In turn, she asked Draco how classes were going at Hogwarts and he answered with a scowl on his face.

"It's awful. We aren't learning anything since the Death Eaters were hired. The Carrows seem to enjoy hurting anyone and everyone, not just the Mudbloods," he explained. "Snape doesn't care about anything either. Hogwarts is pointless.

She frowned, hating to hear that her once-beloved school had turned into such an awful place. She would have to speak to the Dark Lord about it when she returned home.

Her father cleared his throat before turning to look at her, his eyes a bit wild. "Does he hurt you? I can't stand thinking about you cooped up in that big empty house all alone with him!" he demanded, truly concerned for his daughter.

It was not an outburst Hermione was expecting. She had to stop herself from laughing at how preposterous it sounded because it was obvious that he was serious. "What? Of course not! The Dark Lord is rarely home and when he is, he teaches me things very patiently and calmly," Hermione tried to reassure him.

"And he hasn't...taken advantage of you?" her father asked, unable to look at her, too worried at what the answer might be.

"Father!" Hermione gasped, her cheeks red with embarrassment as she was reminded of their encounter only a few days before. She believed that this was a topic meant to remain between her and her husband. "No, we...we don't do _those_ kind of things," she finally uttered stiffly, her eyes firmly on her plate, unwilling to face her family.

She was left feeling more like an outsider than when she had learned she was adopted. It was so odd. Many times when she was at Riddle Manor, she had missed spending time with her family and longed to return home. But now that she was with them, it felt like she didn't recognize them anymore. Like they had all moved on without her.

And now, it seemed her home was with Voldemort.


	18. Chapter 18

Hermione felt the wedge between her and her family growing larger every day. Initially, she was concerned that it was the revelation about her true blood status that caused them to pull apart, but now she thought her marriage to the Dark Lord had caused it.

She couldn't understand why it would bother them so much when they had always been fervent supporters. Now, she was arguably the highest-ranking follower, so they should be enjoying their new connections.

But they weren't.

Though Hermione never saw it, she saw evidence of her mother's tears in her red-rimmed eyes. Draco had started going on missions and only grew more withdrawn after each one. He would no longer share any details of what he'd been up to, acting too ashamed to open up. Hermione tried to remind him of how handsomely rewarded he would be when the Dark Lord ultimately won. Her father was a husk of a man, no longer putting in the same effort as he had before.

She just couldn't understand why her family wasn't taking this as seriously as she was, when they now had more reason than ever.

For as much as she had been looking forward to spending time with her family, in the end, she couldn't wait to get home to Riddle Manor. After saying goodbye, she tumbled through the Floo and into the library where the Dark Lord was waiting for her return.

"How did you find your holidays?" he asked politely after offering her a hand to steady herself.

"It was nice to see my family, but I'll admit that I am glad to be home. I missed you, my love," she said in a rush. When he didn't return the sentiment, Hermione blushed and tried to change topics. "Draco showed me his Mark. It was much...bigger than I expected."

Her husband guided them to sit on the settee in front of the fireplace, before asking her to continue.

Hermione bit her lip. "He said that things at Hogwarts are not very productive and that Headmaster Snape is letting the Carrows run amok," she told him, knowing that he needed to be made aware of this. "I thought that didn't sound very much like the Professor Snape I know."

He did look slightly concerned, and perhaps he had been unaware of the chaos that the students were experiencing. Before he could ask more on the topic, something came crashing through the window. Both the Dark Lord and Hermione hopped up and ran to see what it was, only to discover a badly injured owl with a shiny object in its beak. It dropped the heavy thing before trying to fly out the window again.

Voldemort dropped to his knees and picked up the object, only to drop it as though it had burned him. He looked stricken, his face paling rapidly.

It was enough to concern Hermione. She picked up the object and examined it. It was a rather large emerald locket with a big silver filigree " _S_ " on its front.

The owl was still attempting to flee but couldn't because of its injuries. The Dark Lord let out a strangled cry before leveling his wand at the bird. " _Avada Kedavra!"_ he shouted, hitting the bird directly. It died with a squawk and an explosion of feathers.

"I already felt it die," her husband raged. "Why would they send it to me?" He shoved over a small podium that typically held a dictionary, before sending curses at inanimate objects in the room, destroying chairs and tables alike.

"My Lord? What's wrong? What's happened?" she asked, hoping to distract him enough to have him talk to her. She was growing increasingly concerned by his reaction. Hermione clutched the mangled locket closer to her, knowing that it was important in some way.

He didn't answer and instead, his rage continued for a few more minutes before he dropped his wand, energy spent. He walked over to the settee and collapsed into it, his hand pressed over his face.

Hermione raced to his side. "My Lord, you are scaring me," she whispered when he refused to meet her eye. She held up the locket for him to look at. "Is this...Slytherin's locket?" she asked gingerly.

Finally, he looked up at her. "Yes, it is. It was an old family heirloom, but more importantly..." he trailed off, considering his next words carefully. "Hermione, the thing I desire most in this world is to live forever. I've taken certain measures to ensure that. This locket held a tiny piece of my soul. It was a Horcrux and filthy Potter destroyed it."

Hermione gasped at the implications. "So now you are vulnerable? Half of your soul is gone?" she asked.

"One _seventh_ of my soul is gone. I felt it die, while you were away," he said, sullen. "But then that _taunting_ boy had to send me the remains. The insolence! I will _destroy_ him!" he promised, his eyes a bright, vivid red. He was angrier than Hermione had ever seen him.

She rested a hand on his shoulder, wanting to reassure him. "Don't worry, my love. You have six other Horcruxes, right? He won't be able to get rid of them all," she assuaged, hoping to calm him down. "He is a weak boy and soon he will be out of the picture forever."

That seemed to do the trick. The longer he thought over her words, the calmer he appeared.

"Tell me more about Horcruxes," Hermione coaxed, wanting to know all the details. "I'm only vaguely familiar with them." Since the Horcruxes held such a large part of her husband's safety, Hermione wanted to learn everything about them to help keep him safe.

He smiled at her. "They are a rare and dark magic," he began, pleased that he had such a curious and intelligent partner for a wife. He went on to explain the basics of Horcruxes to her, before pointing her in the direction of several books for further reading.

Hermione quickly pulled the books out of the library before taking them to their bedroom to read further. They were fascinating objects that had a very particular usefulness, but she couldn't help but feel sick to her stomach when she thought about what had to be done to create one. Of course, she wasn't averse to dark magic, but this was certainly darker than most.

She couldn't believe her husband had the wherewithal to split his soul seven times...

The fact that he was even as powerful as he was despite missing a large part of his soul was shocking. It made her wonder if there was a way to restore his soul and his magical power. Surely there was a better way to ensure immortality than by splitting your soul, though she could admit it was likely the fastest way.

Hermione was surprised to learn that Nagini also held a part of the Dark Lord's soul. It made her feel closer to the giant snake. She loved when Nagini curled up next to her when she was reading, as it made her feel even closer to her husband.

* * *

Hermione was halfway through an assignment when Draco sent her a quick Floo call telling her to come home at once to identify a prisoner. She didn't bother changing out of her simple blue robes before she walked through the fireplace. Instantly, her ears were assaulted by feminine shrieks.

"What's going on?" she demanded of Draco.

Her brother merely shrugged, as though he were completely unbothered by the sound.

Hermione walked down the hall with purpose, pushing the door open. She found Ginny Weasley on their expensive rug, being tortured by Bellatrix. She was crying and thrashing in immense pain. Even though Hermione had never cared for _any_ of the Weasleys, she could barely stand to watch.

"What the hell is this, Bellatrix?" she asked with a sneer.

Bellatrix's head snapped up and spoke to her niece. "This little bitch was in my vault at Gringotts!" she said, before slapping the young witch across the face. "Admit it! That's how you got the sword!"

"We didn't," Ginny blubbered, shaking her head back and forth. "I promise."

Hermione's heart sank immediately, not believing one word Weasley said. If they had been in the Lestrange vault, then that meant they could have Hufflepuff's Cup - another one of her husband's Horcruxes. If there was any chance of this, she needed to let the Dark Lord know immediately.

"Why haven't you called the Dark Lord yet?" Hermione demanded, raising her eyebrow in disdain at her Aunt's failures. Hermione couldn't believe that she was ever entrusted with something as precious as a Horcrux, though she also almost couldn't believe that Potter and his friends had broken in. "You have several Undesirables here and you haven't called him?"

Her eyes roved to the other two prisoners and immediately recognized them as Potter and Weasley, though Potter's face was hideously swollen.

"Because your _useless_ brother couldn't tell me if it was really Potter!" Bellatrix shrieked again, before crossing the room, grabbing the dark-haired wizard by the cheeks and turning him to look at Hermione. "Maybe you'll settle it for us. We don't want to make a mistake and call him if we are wrong."

Hermione turned to look at Draco quizzically, but his eyes were firmly on the ground. "I couldn't be certain," he said, his voice little more than a croak.

She rolled her eyes, knowing that she would have to get to the bottom of _that_ later. "Of course it's Potter and Weasley and Weaselette," Hermione said, exasperated. "And you should have called him right away. _Salazar_ , Bellatrix, I can't believe how scared you are...like a nervous little rat."

"Fine then, I'll call him," the older witch said, pushing up her sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark.

Hermione smirked at her. "No need," she answered. She had reached out via their soul bond to request his presence as soon as she'd learned about the vault. "He's already on his way." Hermione wondered if he would give her some sort of reward for handing over Potter.

Before he could arrive, though, Draco was pulling her out of the way of a crashing chandelier and the prisoners were gone.

* * *

Hermione didn't return to Malfoy Manor until Draco asked her to visit. She was eager to see him, knowing that the Dark Lord had been especially furious lately after another piece of his soul had died. He was barely able to contain his rage in front of her, but she knew that he needed space to come to terms with his plan backfiring.

She arrived at Malfoy Manor looking as radiant as ever, ready to catch up with Draco over lunch. Only to her dismay, Draco was looking worse for wear. His cheeks were gaunt, as though he'd lost weight and his eyes had dark circles underneath them, letting Hermione know he wasn't getting enough sleep. He was panicked and jumpy when she walked through the Floo, as though she'd surprised him.

"Merlin, Draco, you look like death warmed up," she said, feeling concerned for him. She wrapped her brother in a tight hug, hoping to give him some comfort. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, shrugging out of her embrace and slumping into one of the chairs at the table set up for their lunch.

Hermione followed him. "Draco, you can't lie to me, I've known you your whole life," she said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it was that could have him so disturbed, but she just wanted to make everything better for him. Hopefully, this would be the chance for him to finally open up.

"I just...I don't want to _do_ this anymore. I don't want to work on _his_ missions, living my life walking on eggshells. Haven't you noticed that he's changed?" he asked, keeping eye contact with her.

"Who? The Dark Lord?" she asked, incredulous. She was very alarmed by where this conversation was going.

"Merlin, you must have noticed how much he's changed, Hermione!" Draco countered. "He is always angry...punishing someone. He _Crucioed_ Bellatrix longer than I've ever witnessed. He choked father and told him he should have left him to rot in Azkaban. Even his physical appearance is changing."

"I...I don't know what to say," she whispered, having not been privy to the punishments he'd doled out the Death Eaters who'd let Potter and the others get away. She didn't like the thought of him hurting her father.

"I am worried about you, Hermione, living alone with him," Draco continued. "You shouldn't have to be tied to him, and I'm afraid that he is going to destroy this family...destroy _you_."

Although she knew that Draco was being sincere, she couldn't stop the pain she felt in her heart at his words. Why would he suggest something like that? Her husband most definitely had not changed! And even if he was a little more ornery than usual, surely his final confrontation with Potter would be happening soon and then this would all be over. They could stop the fighting.

Blinking back tears, she looked at Draco, confused. "Why are you saying this?" she whispered.

"Haven't you seen how father is deteriorating? How mother is always crying? How these missions...the killing, the torture...it's killing me. And you deserve better, too, Hermione," he said gently.

Hermione stood abruptly. It felt like too much of a betrayal to listen to him. "I can't talk to you about this anymore. I am...I am _soul bonded_ to him and nothing is going to change that," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I believe in him, even if you don't."

And then she left him sitting at the table by himself.

* * *

Even after Hermione had composed herself, she couldn't get Draco's words out of her mind. She knew that they had hurt so much because even if she didn't want to admit it, she knew there was a glimmer of truth in them.

It was true that Voldemort had been angrier than usual...his eyes were nearly perpetually red. But she was also sure it would blow over soon. She also knew that it was possible that this change in her husband was being perpetuated by his Horcruxes being destroyed.

Just then, she heard her husband hiss in pain from across the library and immediately made her way to his side. "What's wrong, my love?" she asked, holding onto his arm, but doing her best not to overcrowd him.

"The diadem -" he bit out.

Hermione frowned, more worried than ever. She knew how painful it was for him to lose a part of his soul.

"It's been destroyed. I only have Nagini left now. We must keep her safe at all costs," he added, sounding scared for the first time.

She nodded, knowing that she would do everything in her power to keep the snake (her companion) safe and alive.

A determined look came over the Dark Lord's face. "It is time. We will finish Harry Potter off once and for all," he told her, trying to prepare her for what was to come. To Hermione's surprise, he didn't seem entirely confident.

"What's wrong? You seem...concerned," she asked, wanting to help him if she could.

"The Elder Wand...it doesn't seem to be working as I would have expected it to," he admitted. He'd been using Dumbledore's wand, expecting to be its master.

She knew that admitting that to her was hard, not wanting to seem weak in front of her. But she was grateful to know that she was the only person that he trusted implicitly. She bit her lower lip. "You know... I have been reading a lot about the Elder Wand and all evidence seems to suggest that its true allegiance switches to the wizard who kills its previous master. It's not the _wand_ itself that holds supreme power," she explained, feeling a little bad that she was selling Professor Snape out.

He looked confused but understood quickly enough. "And the person who killed Dumbledore was..."

"Professor Snape, yes. It is regrettable," she told him, for once glad that it was the professor who had killed the Headmaster and not her brother. "But we all must make sacrifices. Some make larger sacrifices than others," she said, knowing that her dour Potions master had already given up so much.

"Yes, regrettable," he agreed, his mind obviously made up. "But only _I_ can live forever."


	19. Chapter 19

Once her husband decided it was time to go after Harry Potter, he did not waste any time amassing his army on the edges of Hogwarts near the Forbidden Forest. Hermione was amazed by its vastness - wizards, acromantulas, giants, centaurs, and even werewolves had all come together to fight for him. She knew that they would win, with all the strength they had behind them.

The Dark Lord had already given an announcement to the whole school, letting them know that if someone should deliver Harry Potter to him, they would be rewarded handsomely. That had set the school into an absolute panic, as Hermione was sure that the Slytherin students were quite keen to track him down, whereas the other houses would try to protect him.

Unfortunately, the Order of the Phoenix had already gotten to the school and set up enchantments with the help of some of the professors, namely Minerva McGonagall. But they could only hold out for so long, Hermione thought primly. Already, she could see cracks forming in their shields as the Death Eaters worked diligently to remove them.

Hermione's stomach was in knots knowing that Draco and all of her friends were inside. She hoped that they were okay and that Draco made the right decisions when they mattered most. After his confession that he hated being a Death Eater, she feared that he would do something to betray the Dark Lord.

Turning, she stared at her husband, watching as he paced back and forth in the clearing. She knew he was worried; he had already snapped and killed one of the lower-ranking Death Eaters for asking a stupid question. She was concerned about approaching him, but she knew she had to.

He stopped pacing when she walked over to him. "My love," she whispered, keeping her voice low so no one else could hear. "When the enchantments fall, I will go to the Chamber of Secrets."

"Absolutely not," he proclaimed. "I don't want you anywhere near the fighting by yourself. You will stay with me while I go and deal with Severus."

She was pleased to hear that he was so worried about her, but she knew it was something she had to do. "Now that Bellatrix has managed to get the Sword of Gryffindor back, Potter and his friends will be looking for something to destroy Nagini with. They will look for a basilisk fang," she explained, watching as he began to understand. "I know where the entrance is - I found it my second year. But I don't know how to get in."

The Dark Lord pressed his lips together firmly before deciding that she was possibly the only person he would ever trust with this task. "I can't teach you Parseltongue in minutes. You will have to take Nagini with you," he said. "Keep her safe and...come back to me."

Hermione nodded, feeling her wedding band burn hot around her finger, alerting her to the fact that his emotions must be very strong. She turned and walked towards the falling enchantments, Nagini slithering silently next to her. As she walked away, she could hear the Dark Lord barking at her father to find Severus and bring him to the boathouse.

The enchantments fell with a great release of energy and the Death Eaters surged forward, immediately beginning to duel with the Order. Hermione walked calmly through the battle, only needing to block a few spells as she got to the castle. No one directly engaged her. The fighting quickly extended into the castle, spells flying through the hallways, letting Hermione know that the Slytherins were putting up a good fight.

She watched as Longbottom, Loony Lovegood, and the Weaselette headed up the stairs towards the seventh floor. She would deal with them next, but first, she had to get to the Chamber.

Just outside of the girls' first-floor lavatory, Hermione ran into Draco fighting a sixth-year Gryffindor. She watched as her brother calmly disarmed him before tying him up with an _Incarcerous_.

"Draco!" she cried in greeting, hugging him tightly.

"Hermione?" he asked, clearly surprised to see her. "You shouldn't be here! It's too dangerous. Come on, we should get you somewhere safe."

She shook him off. "No Draco, I've my own task in the Chamber of Secrets," she said, not willing to let even her brother stop her. "But I just saw some Gryffindors headed to the Room of Requirement. Head them off - they are going to try to kill Nagini," she commanded imperiously.

Draco hesitated for a moment before he turned and ran in the direction of the stairs. Ever loyal, Crabbe and Goyle followed after him.

Hermione entered the bathroom then, finding it flooded but empty. Nagini slithered to the marked sink and hissed at it, immediately making the stones move and rearrange. Before long, the entrance was revealed. Nagini wrapped around her body before Hermione jumped in, sliding down to the chamber below.

She didn't have to wait long after entering the chamber for Ronald Weasley to come bounding in. His heavy footfalls splashed through the water, not even attempting to be sneaky. He ran straight to the basilisk and began looking for one of the remaining fangs in its mouth, unaware of her presence. Ever the hothead, he quickly grew annoyed.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Weasley," she said with a smirk. "I see you recovered from my little spell. How disappointing, though I must say I'm surprised you even managed to reverse it."

He whirled around to face her, frustration on his face at being caught unawares. He drew his wand, only to notice Nagini next to her. "Lots of potions every day for the last five months," he spat out. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you didn't think I was going to let you get this, did you?" she taunted him, showing off the basilisk fang she'd harvested. "You don't think I'm _stupid_ , do you?"

His shoulders squared and it seemed that he was done talking because he immediately sent a curse her way.

Hermione was annoyed, knowing how dangerous it was to duel down here - the spells could easily deflect off of the pipes. It would be important to remove herself as quickly as possible. She blocked his volley of spells, but unfortunately missed a _Diffindo_ that hit her leg, tearing part of her robes.

Summoning the water from the floor, Hermione thrust it in Weasley's general direction. Amused, she watched as it knocked him off of his feet and into the stone statue of Salazar Slytherin. Once she had determined he was unconscious, she decided to leave him there.

"Come, Nagini. It's time we returned to the Dark Lord," she whispered to her massive companion.

When they made their way down the main staircase, Hermione kept an eye out for her brother but didn't see him. She briefly thought about going to find him but knew that he could take care of himself.

* * *

Draco slipped inside the Room of Requirement after the Gryffindors and Ravenclaw. It looked completely different from the last time he'd seen it when Hermione had taken over it. Now, it was absolutely cluttered and stuffed to the brim with odd things, including trash.

They were clearly looking for _something_ in particular, but he wasn't sure what. Hermione had said that it was something to kill Nagini with, but he figured the snake would be difficult to kill. Whispering to Crabbe and Goyle, he instructed them to split up. As he crept quietly along on his own, he tried to think of what he should be looking for.

Before long, he came upon Loony and the Weaselette. "Did you say that the hilt of the sword will be covered in rubies?" Loony asked in that dreamy voice of hers.

"You know it will. I've already described it to you twice, Luna," the Weaselette snapped back at the girl, clearly annoyed. She was rifling through the shelves, not caring if she broke anything.

Draco's mind immediately went back to the sword his Aunt had confiscated while the Weasleys and Potter were brought to Malfoy Manor. He wondered why they thought it would be here. Didn't they know that Bellatrix still had it?

Before he could think on it longer, he heard a huge _whoosh_ like an explosion had gone off somewhere in the room. Against his better judgement, he found himself running _towards_ the noise, only to be met with the sight of an out of control fire erupting from Crabbe's wand. He was waving it around, but unable to put it out.

His stomach sank as he immediately recognized the Fiendfyre. Only Crabbe could be stupid enough to try to cast cursed fire without knowing what the spell accomplished or how to stop it. He began running towards the exit until he found Goyle losing in a duel to Longbottom.

"Run!" he shouted.

At least Goyle was smart enough to not need to be told twice. Up ahead, Draco saw Ginny Weasley knock down some shelves, blocking their paths out. When he and Goyle turned to look for another way out, there was no other way out of the fire.

Draco didn't want to die burnt to a crisp! It wasn't worth it! None of this was worth it.

The trio pushed off on broomsticks and Draco felt a lump form in his throat at the thought that this might really be the end. But noble Longbottom and Loony Lovegood were turning back, coming to save them with outstretched hands. Draco took Lovegood's hand gladly, pulling up onto the back of her broom.

Weasley had already flown to safety. The fire was hot on their tails, especially with the extra weight of additional riders. But somehow, by some miracle at the last second, all four were tumbling off the brooms and onto the cool floor of the seventh-floor corridor. The doors of the Room of Requirement slammed shut behind them.

Draco didn't want to give them a chance to fight him again. He sprinted down the stairs away from them without even pausing to say thank you. He could hear Weasley berating the other two for saving him - the enemy.

But he didn't care to think about the implications of that at the moment. He was convinced now more than ever that this wasn't worth it. The Dark Lord wasn't worth it. Harry Potter wasn't worth it. He needed to find Hermione and get her to their parents and take them away from the danger. He needed to get them to safety.

* * *

After retrieving the basilisk fangs, Hermione and Nagini retreated to the Forbidden Forest to find the Dark Lord once again. He'd called for a temporary ceasefire - to end the needless killing and for Harry Potter to face him, wizard to wizard.

She could see her husband standing alone and immediately walked to his side. Hermione was pleased to see his relief at finding her relatively unhurt. Though she wanted nothing more than to stand on her tiptoes and give him a passionate kiss, she knew that that display of affection would not be tolerated in front of his followers.

"Severus?" she asked tentatively.

"Handled," he answered, a tight set to his jaw.

Hermione looked around at the other Death Eaters, waiting for the Boy Who Lived to arrive. She caught sight of her parents huddled together on the edge of the clearing, but no sign of Draco. Nerves began to churn in her belly. Hopefully, he had just gotten caught up somewhere in the castle, and he was fine.

Before long, the sound of crunching leaves alerted them to an approaching presence. Hermione couldn't hold in her gasp of surprise - it was _actually_ Potter. She almost couldn't believe it, until she remembered he'd always acted like such a martyr.

Potter wore such a grave look of determination on his face. He didn't even flinch when the Dark Lord raised his wand and cast the Killing Curse. He was struck in the chest, falling limply to the forest floor without raising his own wand.

It was odd to see him lying there, unmoving. Hermione watched as her mother hesitantly crept forward, kneeling over Potter's body. Her head hovered over his face for a moment. And then she stood, turning to face everyone. "He's dead," she announced.

Hermione could feel her husband's happiness singing through their shared bond. She wanted nothing more than to wrap him in her arms, eager to celebrate the end of this horrid chapter of their life. Maybe that would come later.

The Dark Lord commanded that oaf, Hagrid, to carry Potter back up to the castle. When they entered the courtyard, the chorus of gasps and tears at the sight of Potter's lifeless body reverberated through the clearing. Hermione watched, feeling _somewhat_ empathetic as Ginny Weasley collapsed to her knees, sobbing at the loss of her boyfriend. Her father wrapped her in an awkward hold to stop her from surging forward.

Voldemort gleefully announced that Harry Potter was dead before revealing that they would gladly welcome anyone to their side.

Hermione finally found Draco in the crowd, his bright blond hair standing out. He looked somewhat apathetic to the events.

"Draco!" she called to him, motioning for him to come over to where he belonged.

He stood there for a moment, still as a statue, before he finally lurched forward, making the slow walk across the courtyard under the scrutiny of the assembled. The Dark Lord congratulated him on his successes and promised him great rewards.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him next, giving him a firm hug. Draco tried to pull her back towards their parents, but she shook her head with a smile on her face. "My place is with my husband," she whispered to him.

Draco looked agonized for a brief instant before he walked away.

Longbottom was the next to step forward, much to everyone's surprise. He told the Dark Lord who he was, ignoring the jeers from the Death Eaters. Instead of wanting to join them, though, he immediately launched into an impassioned speech, saying that even with Potter gone, Voldemort would die.

Hermione was barely listening to his words and instead was focused on what Longbottom clutched in his hand. Where in Salazar's name did he get the Sorting Hat and what purpose could it have? She was jolted into action when her classmate reached into the hat and pulled out the Sword of Gryffindor.

Then, all hell broke loose.

She was barely able to process everything that was happening: Harry Potter leapt from Hagrid's arms, very much alive; Longbottom charged forward with the sword drawn; the fighting resumed with a vengeance. But most sickeningly, she could hear the popping sound of multiple Disapparations behind them. Why were people leaving? Cowards, all of them!

The Dark Lord let out a strangled cry of frustration, immediately sending curse after curse at Potter.

Someone was tugging on her sleeve. Hermione whirled around, coming face to face with Draco. "Hermione, we have to leave _now_. He isn't worth it," her brother whispered urgently, eyes darting behind her, watching the battle. "He's going to lose."

Hermione could feel her heart breaking. It was time to choose. Was she going to stay with her family, who had lied to her for years but loved her? Or with her husband, who believed in her potential in a way that no one else did?

"No Draco," she said resolutely "My place is at his side. I'm not leaving him."

"You are really going to stay here and give up your life for him?" he asked, looking stricken. "You'll throw your life away for him?"

She bit her lower lip, wondering how she could convince him. "Yes because...because I love him and you stand behind the people you love," she admitted.

Her brother didn't even try to hide his shock and horror at her words. Obviously, he had never imagined that her feelings could be quite that deep.

"And I don't think he's going to lose. I still believe in him," she added for good measure. She wasn't sure when her family had stopped believing in the cause, but it was the final nail in the coffin in their relationship, she was sure of it.

Draco didn't have anything else to say, recognizing that arguing with her was a lost cause. It was too easy for him to turn around and stalk away from Hogwarts with their parents.

They abandoned her. Part of her wondered if it was because she wasn't _really_ their child. But she didn't have time to think about that now. She would confront the heartbreak later. She needed to help her husband.

The Dark Lord and Potter had disappeared, still engaged in an intense duel. More worrisome was that Hermione couldn't find Nagini anywhere. It was paramount that she found the snake as quickly as possible.

Hermione ran into the castle and was immediately attacked by Ginny Weasley. She was easily able to fend off the redhead's curses, scanning the room as she sent back curses of her own. She noticed that Lovegood had fallen down after being chased by Nagini, who was about to strike her dead.

While Hermione was distracted, Weaslette hit her with a curse that sent her flying back into the column behind her. Her head rang from the impact. Once her vision steadied, she saw Neville Longbottom behind Nagini, poised to strike with the sword.

She thought her whole world might crumble as Naginit's head was separated from her body and the soul within her destroyed.

"No!" she screamed, surprising Weaselette. Hermione knew that this meant her husband was as vulnerable as any other wizard.

Pushing herself up from her prone position, Hermione ran out of the main entrance , back into the courtyard where her husband and Potter continued to duel. It appeared that both wizards had realized that the last of the Horcruxes had been destroyed. They both recognized the significance - this was really the end.

Hermione watched as her husband's Killing Curse and Potter's Disarming spell collided together in a ribbon of green and red. At first, it seemed as though they were evenly matched, but Hermione could do nothing but look on, horrified, as her husband slowly but surely lost ground. She ran to him, sprinting as fast as she could.

When she was feet away, she cast a shield spell, hoping that it would help him. Her body collided with the Dark Lord's just as the Expelliarmus was upon them, sending them falling. Just as they were about to hit the ground, Hermione closed her eyes tightly and imagined one place with all her might before Disapparating them.

 _Salazar_ , she hoped this worked.


	20. Chapter 20

Hermione's head was spinning, making it nearly impossible to focus on where she was and what was happening. Keeping her eyes shut tight, the first thing she registered was the solid form of her husband beneath her fingers. She strained her ears for any telltale signs of battle but was met with the sound of birds chirping instead.

Cautiously, she opened her eyes, looking around her.

"It worked," she whispered to herself, feeling a glimmer of hope as she looked around the clearing.

She hadn't been sure she would be able to manage Side-Along Apparition to another _country_ , let alone to a place she'd never actually been to. But luckily she had studied the picture of the little house in the woods of Albania long enough that in her desperation, she'd actually gotten them to safety.

Sitting up, she had to slam her eyes shut as a bout of nausea overcame her. She was obviously still hurt from her duel and the gargantuan magical feat that she'd accomplished. When she thought she was a little bitter, she turned to look at her husband.

The Dark Lord wasn't moving and seemed to be unconscious, but he was very much alive. After a few diagnostic spells, Hermione learned that his magical energy was critically drained. His soul seemed dimmer than before. She could feel a similar strain on her own soul. They would need time to recuperate.

But she could not rest yet. She needed to ensure both of their safety first. Standing, she began erecting wards around the little house - charms to keep out Muggles and wizards alike. When she was finished, she levitated Voldemort inside.

It appeared as though it had remained untouched for several decades - perhaps since he'd last been there. Unfortunately, that meant that everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. She didn't mind - she would take care of it after she got a little bit of sleep. The only thing she needed to _Scourgify_ at this particular moment was the bed.

With the mattress aired out, Hermione was able to place her husband on one side before she crawled onto the other side, wrapping herself around his motionless form. She was so tired, she didn't think she could do anything else without a little bit of rest.

She would close her eyes...just for a few minutes.

* * *

Voldemort woke suddenly, feeling all the breath in his lungs expel suddenly. He didn't try sitting up yet, seeing as he had no idea where he was. One minute he'd been dueling with thrice-damned Potter and the next...nothing.

Peering out of half-closed lids, he began cataloging his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was a mass of bushy, toffee-colored hair.

 _Hermione_ , he thought, letting contentment fill his being.

Cautiously, he began looking around the room and quickly determined that they were in his one-room home in Albania. He had missed the pattering of rain on its roof, and hearing it now brought back waves of nostalgia.

He wondered how he had gotten there before remembering the witch in his arms. She must have been the one to bring them here after his duel had gone in an unfavorable direction. He felt an unfamiliar sensation of gratitude as he realized that he likely wouldn't be alive if it hadn't been for his quick-thinking witch.

Gently sitting up, he was aghast at how badly he needed to brush his teeth. He ran a hand across his face - he needed a shave just as badly. How long had he been unconscious? He pressed a hand to Hermione's shoulder, rousing her from her own sleep so he could get some answers.

She woke up slowly, much groggier than he had been. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she eventually sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. He drank her in, seeing that her robes were still torn around the knee. She hadn't changed since the battle, but he found her to be the prettiest he'd ever seen her.

Voldemort was still exhausted, but he found that being nearer to his little wife made him feel stronger by the second. "How long was I asleep for?" he questioned, his voice raspy, like he hadn't spoken in days.

She shrugged her shoulders while pulling out her wand. She quickly cast a _Tempus_ charm, revealing the date and time. Both of them were surprised to see that it was the 8th of September. "I guess...four months," she said, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. "I was only going to rest my eyes for a bit."

"I suppose that we both needed time to restore our magic," he said with a frown, annoyed at having been bested by Harry Potter once again. It was embarrassing that he couldn't fend off a simple Disarming Charm.

When he met her eyes again, he could read every emotion she felt in her expressive brown eyes.

"I am so glad you survived," she whispered. "I thought I might lose you forever."

He felt his heart tighten in his chest with her honesty. He had had many followers over the years who were willing to support him in his endeavors, but he didn't think that he'd ever had someone who cared about him the way Hermione did. There was no trickery in her emotions, just pure honesty.

It was an overwhelming feeling. He wasn't sure he had the words to explain what he felt - the immense gratitude that she had been the only one to stay by his side when everyone else had given up on him. That she had saved him. Swallowing, he settled for surging forward to give her a firm kiss, hoping to put every ounce of his feeling into that one act.

"Thank you," he said seriously once they had broken apart.

He never would have imagined that something as simple as a kiss could make him feel stronger but it did. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let go, never leave this shack again. He wanted to make love to her while the rain pattered on the roof, but he knew they didn't have the strength for that now.

There would be time for that later.

* * *

After they had awoken from their long sleep, Hermione and Voldemort worked to clean up the little house. Once it had been dusted, Hermione could appreciate their new home, even if it was quite small. She was pleased to find all of the notes he'd left behind undisturbed. She couldn't wait to read all of them.

When evening came, they would slip into bed together. Sometimes he would just hold her, making her feel warm and safe in his embrace. Sometimes she would push back against his body until his cock hardened. Her fingers would tangle in the sheets when he took her passionately, wildly, leaving them both humming with power as they reaffirmed their bond.

Once, he'd even whispered into her ear how he'd always associated love with negative emotions, having learned what his mother did when she was guided by it. While he didn't ever admit and say that he loved her, he implied it and that was enough for her.

In time, he reviewed her memories of the final battle, seeing as his were still too spotty to gain much from. Of course, he knew that he had no Horcruxes left, but he really should have died. Seeing that Hermione had sacrificed herself for him, to protect him, he knew that she was the only reason he was still alive. He relished the memory of her telling Draco that she loved him and filed it away for repeated viewing.

It was ironic. It was her love that saved him, much like Lily Potter's had saved Harry all those years ago.

Their soul bond was strong and he had fed off of her energy in the months that they were asleep. Her soul and magical essence had slowly repaired what had been destroyed in him.

The revelations were not all positive. The desertion of all his Death Eaters, even those he thought were most loyal, felt like being stabbed in the back. _Only_ Hermione had remained when all hope was lost. It made him question his support of the purebloods. After all, he was merely a half-blood and Hermione was a Mudblood, and yet they were the two that remained. Not to mention the superior intellects he and his wife shared. Maybe it had not been wise to elevate the purebloods.

He would need to rethink his strategy next time. And there _would_ be a next time.

But for now they remained in their shack.

At first, the villagers feared them. Staying inside for so long had left their skin pale and many thought they might be vampires. His unaged appearance didn't help matters either, since some of the older villagers still remembered him from last time.

The language came back to him quickly and he was able to converse with ease, though it took Hermione time to figure it out.

The villagers lost their suspicions when Hermione healed one of the children injured by a horse. Now they called her _witch_ , something that amused them both. He did not think that it was meant to be offensive, more a testament to her unnatural powers. Always willing to help, Hermione found herself making rounds in the village to heal people. Sometimes they would even call on her at the house. Voldemort did not appreciate the intrusion, but he knew that Hermione found purpose in it and allowed it to continue.

Hermione spent most of her time reading through his old notes, absolutely fascinated by his musings. He had been so close to creating a philosopher's stone back then, but something was missing. She frequently tinkered with the formula, wanting to figure out the secret.

"My love, is it still your intention to become immortal?" she asked him one blustery winter night as they huddled around the small fire.

"It has always been my life's desire to be immortal," he said flatly. Frankly, the thought of dying still did not appeal to him.

She bit her lower lip. "What would that mean for me?" she asked. "Would you still have me if I am withered and old, while you remain the same?"

It seemed a preposterous image to him, seeing as she was still so young compared to him. "Of course you would become immortal with me," he told her truthfully. It wasn't even a question to him that she would remain by his side forever, now that he had her.

She smirked at him. "You once told me that only _you_ could live forever," she teased, purposefully baiting him.

"Yes, but that was before I was soulbound and you saved me," he said, surprising himself at his next thought. What if his next words changed everything between them? How would his confession change his goals, his drive, his desires? He decided to give it a chance. "That was before...I loved you."

The grin that spread across her face made him feel self-conscious. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, but didn't say anything about his admission. She appreciated that such an oath was a big deal for him to say out loud. Honestly, she had thought that he would never say it.

"What will we do when the stone is completed and we create the Elixir of Life?" she asked, eager to dream about the future. "I think I'm ready to start testing soon."

He was frequently amazed by her work ethic. Although he was certain the philosopher's stone was not something she would normally have an interest in, it was important to him, so it was enough for her to dedicate her time to it.

"I haven't thought much past that," he admitted. "I don't know what to think of England. I'm not ready to go back yet, but I think we both know my destiny will lead me there." He didn't like to talk about his failure, especially since the second time hurt so much worse. There wouldn't be an army of Death Eaters waiting for his return this time.

"Whatever we decide to do," Hermione started, only to snuggle closer to his body. "I will be here by your side."


End file.
